When Angels Fly
by Leonhard van Euler
Summary: When Sam and Dean released the Devil from his cage and started the apocalypse, they thought that Lucifer would be all for exterminating humanity. But when they meet Harry Potter, who is apparently an amnesic Lucifer, they start to wonder... Will Harry agree to stop the apocalypse before it even properly starts? And where is God in all of this? Harry-is-Lucifer story. GEN!FANFICTION
1. PROLOGUE

**Update November, 2018: Hello reader! I finished this story a few weeks ago, but wished to write a small introduction for anyone coming to this story now. Thank you for selecting this story; I hope you enjoy it. I also apologise for 16/17 year-old me who wrote the majority of this story. That person was a whiny little brat. Ignore the A/N's... they're ostentatiously long, and very, very boring.**

 **The writing is pretty terrible... and I have also been accused of my Lucifer seeming too much like Lucifer's (FOX) Lucifer, and not the one from supernatural. Sorry, I guess. Still, I find this is a story worth reading if only for the character development. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it... even after that daunting introduction that I have given you...!**

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"…And it is written, that the first demon shall be the last seal," Ruby said, eyes sparkling with manic fanaticism as she stared into Sam's own panicked ones. Said Winchester's mouth floundered for a few moments, before he raised his hands to clutch his head in shock and sudden terror. "And you bust her open," Ruby continued, "Now guess who's coming for dinner."

Her voice was cocky, Sam suddenly noticed. But right now all of that didn't matter; what _did_ matter however, was the streams of blood that had started connecting with each other, forming a slightly less than perfect circle. "Oh my God," Sam whispered in shock as his eyes widened and his mouth dried.

Ruby smirked nastily and she said nasally, "Guess again."

Sam's head jerked upwards when he heard banging and his gaze shot towards the double doors which were currently shuddering after every 'bang!'. Ruby ignored the sound, and rounded on Sam, "You don't even know-" but was interrupted by a figure launching itself through the double doors: Dean. He had come back.

"You're too late," Ruby said nastily, turning around to face Dean and exposing her back to Sam. Dean's determined expression didn't change and he marched to her; in his hand he held a dagger and Sam realised almost instantly what he had in mind. And hell, maybe an hour ago, he had been all for saving Ruby's life… but now, that bitch had betrayed him. She had betrayed everyone fighting against the apocalypse.

"I don't care," Dean snarled and almost simultaneously, both brothers made their move. With a roar, Sam grabbed hold of Ruby's shoulders while Dean swung his dagger into the demon's abdomen. Flickers of light originated from the place where Dean had struck her and they spread, killing her very effectively. Ruby's mouth popped open and Sam stared with disgust as those same flickers of light which were now reflected on Dean's face.

Dean twisted the dagger, snarling in anger as he did so, and in one swift movement pulled the dagger back, producing a loud crunching sound. Sam held her for a moment, staring at the vessel in his hands, momentarily shocked. He was launched into movement when he felt Dean's eyes on him and he released Ruby's vessel. The innocent woman fell to the floor unceremoniously, but Sam barely even looked at her.

His watery eyes had found Dean's and he suddenly felt like a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Only… this was a slight bit more serious than that. Sam then said the only thing that he could really say, those two damned words; "I'm sorry."

He was sorry for all of it, for his dad, for their fractured relationship, for Sam's vulnerability and his addiction to demon blood, for fighting with Dean, for trusting Ruby - a demon - so implicitly and above all, for starting the apocalypse. Dean's gaze flickered down to the floor for a moment, evidently he too could not find the right words.

But then, just out the corner of his eye, Sam saw the different streams of blood finally conjoin with each other. Very suddenly, right in the middle of the circle, a thick column of light appeared, blinding the brother's momentarily. Sam stared at the steadily growing column of light in shock. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dean reaching out to grab his coat. Sam similarly grabbed his forearm.

"Sammy, let's go," Dean's voice was raw with emotion. Sam ignored him, "Dean," he murmured as he continued staring at the steadily growing light. He wanted to explain how very sorry he was, how Ruby had managed to convince him that she was legit, but instead, he only managed to say two words: "He's coming."

As the column started widening even more, Dean jerked his arm to the side to thrust him into motion. Exchanging a glance, the brothers rushed to the open doors but they were slammed shut just as they reached them. Sam collapsed against the doors, trying to bust them open, but this time they had been locked by pure grace or magic or whatever.

Suddenly, they couldn't see anymore. Even with his eyelids closed, Sam's vision was still just as bright as when his eyes were open. He felt the heat on his face and tried to shield it. He fell down to his knees and felt Dean do the same. And suddenly, dark spots started appearing in his vision and he knew if it got anymore intense - and it would - then he would fall into unconsciousness.

And then, all of a sudden it was all over.

Very slowly, oh so slowly, Sam lowered the arms he had curled around his face for protection and glanced at Dean who had similarly tried to protect himself. Dean looked unharmed, but his eyes too, showed bemusement. After he had confirmed that his brother was ok, Sam turned his gaze back to the column of light -

only there was no column of light. The blood was gone. Lilith was gone… even Ruby was gone!

"What the hell?" Dean murmured after a moment, voice cracking partly in shock, partly in confusion and horror. Sam slowly stood up but ignored the soot and dust covering most of his lower half. Right now that didn't matter. What mattered was what the hell had happened to Lucifer and what the hell was going on.

"Where - what… Lucifer?" Sam managed to mumble out as he took a hesitant step forwards. Dean grabbed the dagger he'd dropped and wiped it clean against his already coat.

"I don't know, man, I have no freakin' idea," Dean finally said, closing his eyes as he did so.

.

Harry was having a pretty crappy day, and that was an understatement.

Suddenly realising that you are the unintentional host for an evil Dark Lord's mutilated soul generally puts a damper on things. But, Harry mused as he looked down at the snitch in his hands, he supposed he'd known for quite a while that at the end of the day, he too, would have to die. For the _greater good_ at least.

He had finally understood that his job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when he at last found himself across his path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished: neither would live, neither could survive.

He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in the dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. Slowly, very slowly, Harry took a step into the Forbidden forest. He was hidden underneath his clock of course, no one, even those actively searching for Death Eaters to capture would be able to find him.

He suddenly felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and never and pounding heart? It would all be gone… or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.

Was this what suicide victims felt like when they were about to commit suicide? For that was what he was doing. He was finally finishing a suicide mission that Dumbledore had set out for him. How elegant, how utterly beautifully elegant to give a task such as hunting down the horcruxes to a walking dead man. No more unnecessary victims, no abundance of dead bodies.

Harry took one glance back at the entrance to Hogwarts. People were moving around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but he could not see any of the people he loved, no hint of Hermione, Ron, Ginny or any of the other Weasleys, no Luna. The people that he could see in the distance were little specks compared to everything else. Little ants. And they seemed so very far away right now.

He felt a sudden emptiness surround his heart and he noticed that a swarm of Dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had no strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. This was the end. The strategy of the winning team had been laid on the table, and their win was almost undeniable now. They were about to catch the snitch and they would win.

…The snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.

 _I open at the close._

And he realised it now, this was the Resurrection Stone. One of the Deathly Hallows. Breathing fast and hard now, Harry murmured the words that the snitch had been designed to open to: like a password. "I am about to die."

The snitch cracked open, and a black stone tumbled down onto his palm. Harry closed his eyes, and remembering the legend of the Deathly Hallows, he followed the instructions: he turned the stone over in his hands, three times.

The people that appeared around him were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They weren't solid, like Tom Riddle's memory, but they weren't so translucent like the Hogwarts Ghosts. And curiously, the people that appeared weren't at all his parents, or his godfather, or Remus, but three others.

One was about Harry's height; his hair was golden and brushed back neatly, his nose was a slight bit crooked but his eyes twinkled with mischief. He was currently rubbing his palms together eagerly. Next to him stood a dark skinned man, he was dressed in a suit and had a stern, but serious look. The last person was a young man: he was think and a little frail looking, but his eyes conveyed power.

Instinctively, Harry realised that their names were Gabriel, Raphael and Michael, respectively.

"Hm… Curious - and who are you, oh Gandalf?" The shortest man - Gabriel - asked, eyes flickering down to the wand which Harry loosely held in his right hand.

"Uh, I'm Harry Potter - who the hell are you?" He managed to stutter out. Why was the stone showing him this? He didn't even know these people.

"How have you summoned the Archangels of the Lord?" Demanded the other young man - Michael. He spoke in a monotone, as though he wasn't sure how to use a human body. Harry's eyes widened.

"Archangels… Lord?" He repeated, before his hand slackened from shock and the stone tumbled to the ground. He didn't pick it up and slowly started backing away from it. He heard voices, and followed them, mind now fully concentrated on the task ahead of him. All thoughts of the stone now lay deep in the Forbidden Forest.

He followed the voices, and the scent of burning wood and finally he saw a clearing in the distance. As he neared the clearing, he started to make out more details: A fire burned in the middle of it, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded, others, already known by the government, showed their faces.

Werewolves, giants and vampires all stood at the edge of said clearing, their watchful eyes scouring the woods, evidently in search for something… or someone. But Harry ignored all this. His gaze was focused upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, an angel of death, but when he looked up, his eyes were as red as a demons.

"No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov and Harry instantly knew that by him they meant Harry.

"I thought he would come," Voldemort said, gazing at the flames. "I expected him to come. It seems… I was… mistaken." He seemed to bite out the last few words and Harry realised he hated being wrong. Harry briefly considered turning around now, just to mess with the man… but no, he had to fulfil his destiny.

He took off the cloak and stepped into the clearing.

"You weren't."

The reaction the Death Eaters gave was similar to that the one fans gave when their team made a goal: there was always a momentary silence, and then the fans would erupt into cheers. Only here, the Death Eaters chose to jeer at him. Voldemort's gaze fixed itself upon Harry, before he suddenly seemed to notice that his minions had become unruly, and his gaze swept majestically over his troops. In less than a few seconds, all was silent again.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said in his high, inhumane voice, "The Boy-Who-Lived."

The man raised his wand - the Elder Wand - and pointed it at Harry. This was it. This was the moment. A unified gasp seemed to go through the clearing as Voldemort's whispered spell shot at Harry. It all happened in slow motion. The bolt of green energy slowly crawled at Harry who barely paid it any attention. His eyes roamed the prisoners behind Voldemort and he was delighted to see that Hagrid hadn't been killed. Yet. Near him, sat bound Order of the Phoenix members who were all staring at Harry in shock.

And then the spell hit him.

.

For a moment, everyone held in their breath and as the spell hit, a collective gasp was heard. What disturbed Harry, was the fact that he had heard it.

He opened the eyes that he'd thought he'd closed and was faced with a shocking sight. He still stood in the same position, and on the other side of the field, Voldemort's wand was still raised, but his eyes had widened and his mouth had propped open in shock. Harry very suddenly realised that the spell had hit him, but that he wasn't dead.

Well shit.

Gazing down at his chest, (Harry very much hoped that he wouldn't see a second lighting bolt on there), Harry noticed that his clothes were unharmed, unsinged. Even if the spell hadn't harmed him, it would have still had an effect on his clothes, it would have at the very least, burned in the place the spell had stuck it.

Then there was a loud, loud gasp of relief which was followed by sobbing and when Harry's gaze moved to find the source of the sounds, he found Hagrid dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. This sudden interruption served as a catalyst for the shocked stupor into which most of the Death Eaters had fallen. Also, Voldemort.

With a raged cry, said man jerked his wand again, and again, a bolt of green light struck Harry's chest. Only again, nothing happened.

And that was when Harry noticed it. A few tendrils of beautiful golden, white light surrounded his body. They enveloped him like a warm hug, protecting him. Harry felt his eyes heat up and he instinctively realised that they were glowing. And just as instinctively, Harry raised his right hand palm facing Voldemort, who for the first time in the entire time Harry had known him, looked scared.

And then, Harry commanded that golden, protective light to obey him, and kill Voldemort.

Seconds later, said Dark Lord lay on the forest floor, spread eagled, mouth wide open in a silent scream and two empty sockets staring into the British sky overhead.

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 **Thank you very much for reading the prologue to my Harry is Lucifer story. I hope you enjoyed it! I might update this next Friday if I have time, so keep an eye open!**

 **^You might recognise some text from the actual Deathly Hallows book... and yeah, I took some quotes from the book, but I won't in the future. It's going to become much, much more AU.**

 **BTW, I am aware that the prologue was pretty short, but no worries, the next chapters will be somewhere around 3k words.**

 **OH AND TODAY IS MY FIRST DAY OF HOLIDAYS!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all for your kind words! It was really nice to hear that you're enjoying this story!**

 **I will be posting the next chapter of this story next week on Friday.**

 **For those reading Finding Grace: I will be updating tomorrow.**

 **OH BTW, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS STORY ON A WORD DOCUMENT SO I RECOMMEND THAT YOU READ THIS IN A 1/2 PAGE FORMAT (you can change this at the top of the story (you'll see the symbol for 'text' and if you click on that, you can choose a new format for the story)). I FORMATTED THIS STORY ON A WORD DOCUMENT SO IT'S A LITTLE STRETCHED OUT ON A FF . NET. PAGE.**

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"You went like full on Vader - your body temperature was 150, your heart rate was 200," Chuck was rambling on at Sam. The Prophet gestured at his own eyes and glancing hesitantly at Dean said: "Your eyes were black."

Following that statement, Dean turned to Sam, just as he swallowed heavily, "Your eyes were black?" Dean questioned. Sam grimaced slightly.

"I didn't know," The younger Winchester mumbled. Dean's expression was unreadable - perhaps disappointment, horror? - as he turned back to the unclean Chuck.

"Where's Cas?" His voice was rough, perhaps from the emotions threatening to spill out. Chuck's breath came out in deep pants and after a moment, he finally confirmed what the Winchesters had already been thinking; "He's dead," He paused, "Or gone… The Archangels smote the crap outta him." His eyes were full of sympathy as he glanced down at the floor, "I'm sorry."

"You're sure?" Dean questioned, his voice a little deeper than usual as he tried to conceal the emotions behind them, "I mean maybe he just vanished into-"

"Oh no," Chuck grunted out, "He like exploded," He continued, gesticulating with his hands. Sam now noticed that his voice was a little panicked. Chuck took a few steps forward, all the while simulating an explosion with his hands, "Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

Sam and Dean traded a slightly disturbed glance, before Dean finally lowered his eyes to the floor.

"And, uh, Lucifer, any word on him?" Sam finally asked. Chuck bit his lip and looked away for a moment.

"Nothing much. The Angels are panicking though, no one knows where he is, or how he escaped the cage. Their reasoning is that nothing came out when you opened the doors, so Lucifer must've already been out. Everyone's freaking out." Sam and Dean shared another glance, this time both of them stared at each other with confusion.

"But that doesn't make sense - if Lucifer's been out this entire time, why hasn't he jumpstarted the apocalypse yet?" Dean said. His voice came out muffled because he rubbing the palms of his hands against his face.

"Aw crap," Chuck suddenly muttered, eyes rising to stare at the ceiling, "I can feel them."

"What?" Dean demanded, stepping closer to Chuck.

"I thought we'd find you here," Someone suddenly said. Slowly, Dean turned, Sam flicked his hair out of his face only to turn to stare at the Angel Zachariah. He was dressed in a formal business suit; behind him stood two henchmen. Their faces were blank and their composures stiff.

"Playtime's over Dean," Zachariah said, glancing around the practically destroyed house with disgust before his eyes finally settling on Dean. "Time to come with us." When Zachariah tried to move closer to the eldest Winchester, Dean held up a warning hand, "Now keep your distance, Asshat."

"You're upset," Zachariah said haltingly. Dean snorted mockingly.

"Yeah, a little," his voice was laden with sarcasm, "You sons of bitches jumpstarted the apocalypse and judgement day!"

Zachariah smiled coldly, "Maybe we let it happen," he said condescendingly, "But we didn't start anything." His tone was calm, as though he were simply discussing the weather. He glanced at Sam, "Right, Sammy?"

Said man tilted his head to the side, swallowing heavily when he realised what Zachariah was implying. "You had a chance to stop your brother," the Angel continued, now turning back to Dean, "And you couldn't. So let's not quibble over whose fault it is. Let's just say it was all our fault and move on, cause like it or not, it's apocalypse now," Zachariah said, smirking.

"Yeah - but apparently, it wasn't our fault. Apparently, Lucifer's been out for some time," Dean snarled angrily. Zachariah's expression morphed into one of surprise. "Oh we know," Dean continued and gestured at Chuck who was trying to make himself as small as possible, "We know that Lucifer's been out for some time now so shut the hell up and stop the son of a bitch."

Zachariah's arrogance and smirk were back as he sauntered over to Dean and attempted to intimidate him with his slightly superior height. "So, we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You want to kill the Devil, we want you to kill the Devil," Zachariah shrugged, "Synergy."

"And we're just supposed to trust you?" Dean asked incredulously, staring at Zachariah vindictively, "Cram it with walnuts, Ugly!"

"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description! We need to strike now! Hard and fast! Before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel?" Sam spoke up, staring at the Angel incredulously. "Lucifer needs a meat-suit?"

"He _is_ an Angel," Zachariah mumbled, then glancing down at Dean's hand, he noticed suddenly that said Winchester was bleeding. Dean smirked when he saw Zachariah's eyes drift downwards.

"You're bleeding?"

Dean smirked again, "A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." With that, Dean spun around and pulled out the door, revealing an Angel-banishing blood sigil. Dean barely glanced back at Zachariah before pressing his palm against the door.

.

Walking through Hogwarts felt surreal to him. Hours ago, when witnessing Snape's and Dumbledore's memories in the pensieve, he had fully expected himself to commit suicide and ultimately, die. But now, instead, he was traversing the many hallways and staircases of Hogwarts, alive, with a beating heart… and avoiding any human contact.

He'd brought Voldemort's body with him back to Hogwarts to prove the Dark Lord's death. Shit hit the fan after that: people started mobbing him, trying to touch a part of him to congratulate him, others started sobbing when they realised that the war was over. Some shouted at him in anger and some quietly accepted the fact before vanishing to reunite with their families.

Hermione and Ron attempted to speak with him, but Harry brushed them off by telling them that needed to visit Dumbledore's portrait in the Headmistresses office. He lied of course, and instead grabbed his invisibility cloak and started walking. Besides, he knew they needed some time with their families - or anyhow, Ron did. Harry wondered briefly if anyone from the Weasley clan had died during the battle.

He walked through Hogwarts like he'd never seen it - in fact, he'd never seen it _this_ way. It was as though Voldemort's murder had revealed some sort of odd magic-sensitivity within Harry. Suddenly colours were brighter, smells were stronger, sounds were louder and the wind was colder. Not only that, but also his perception of magic had changed. Suddenly, as Harry walked through the halls of Hogwarts, he started seeing tendrils of light - magic he presumed - that were imbued in the very atmosphere of the castle.

When he walked to closely to one of these such tendrils of light, he _felt_ them caressing his cheek or nose, causing warmth to spread throughout his body. Reaching the third floor - the one that he, Ron and Hermione had accidentally ended up on all those years ago - Harry noticed a particularly large tendril of light ahead of him. Said wizard gently reached out with his hand and smiled serenely when the tips of his fingers brushed against it, sending tingling warmth down his arm.

"You can finally see them." He heard Luna say behind him, by now Harry didn't have to turn to recognise his cherished friends. Instead, he kept reaching out with his hand, trying to get more of that warmth. "You're not mad you know, I can see them too," She said quietly, unknowingly echoing the words she said to Harry the first time he saw the Thestrals. She took a few more steps and placed a hand on his forearm, before gently putting it down.

When Harry turned to face her, he noticed that her large blue eyes were wide and filled with an emotion he could decipher. Her eyes were watery and inwardly, Harry winced hoping that she wouldn't burst into tears, for he remembered very precisely what had happened the last time he had tried to console a crying girl. ***1**

"You are so beautiful, Morningstar," She mumbled at last, staring at something behind his shoulders. Harry glanced behind him and frowned when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Turning back to Luna, he noticed that one lone tear had escaped her eye and was now precariously gripping onto her chin. Harry reached out with his hand and wiped the tear off with his thumb.

"Hang on, Luna; what's going on? What are you talking about?"

Luna smiled at him kindly, "I am a Prophet of the Lord, but not even I could have foreseen this." Harry, used to her speaking in metaphors and riddles, smiled indulgently and nodded along as though she was making prefect sense. "I could have not foreseen that Lucifer would rise in this way-"

"Lucifer? As in the Devil?" Harry asked with wide eyes - did she mean Voldemort? Was 'Lucifer' a metaphor for Voldemort?

"Soon, the Fallen One will rise again and he shall execute his revenge. And when that revenge is executed the Risen One will reunite with his family; and so it is written," Luna said, speaking in an ethereal voice. She cupped Harry's cheek for a moment, before quickly marching away from Harry, leaving a bemused wizard standing in the middle of the hallway.

.

His muggle flat wasn't anything particularly expensive or grand, not like the Malfoy manor anyway. His flat was fairly spartan and simple in nature. It had a kitchen/living room, a bathroom and a bedroom. He had everything he needed; warm water, light, heating and even wifi (or so had the real estate agent told him but he had no idea what wifi was used for). ***2**

It was this flat that Harry had been using for the past three weeks to hide away from the wizarding world. It was void of magic so as to hinder any attempts to track him down via magical means. He _had_ however set up a few wards to make it slightly harder to track him down via owl or via a magical trace. His wand - and the Elder Wand - were safely tucked under his mattress and he barely used them for household tasks. Large bursts of magic within a predominantly muggle area would only grab the Ministry's attention.

It was also in this flat that Harry started experiencing odd visions and night sweats. At first he only started experiencing troublesome emotions during his deams, but soon these emotions evolved into something much more drastic. He started seeing more and more terrible dreams, some of which involved falling. In these dreams he would watch himself fall from a great distance. When he woke up in the morning, Harry could always remember feeling terrified, also betrayed and in pain.

Usually he woke up with a loud shout or a scream - the lady living across him had even told him off once or twice and had then proceeded to ask him gently what the dreams were about. Harry had muttered 'war', resulting in her believing that he was a war veteran sent home because of PTSD. His unkempt appearance and unshaven face made him look considerably older, hence the reason why the theory was believable.

Also, it was in this new flat, that he started experiencing terrible itching on his back. It started just below his shoulder-blades and then spread to his lower back. When he looked in the mirror, his back looked normal, save perhaps for a few red irritated splotches where he'd indulged in his desire to stop itching. He'd even spent an entire day casting cleaning spells around his flat, trying to find a nest of bedbugs.

It was during the end of the first week that something a slight bit more drastic happened: Harry had been out shopping for food - he still had to eat, thank you very much! - when he'd stumbled against a thin, frail, old woman, causing her to drop the jar of pickles she'd been about to drop into her cart.

Instinctively, Harry had reached out with his hand and stopped the jar from crashing against the hard floor, just millimetres away from it. He'd used accidental magic before, but that had stopped around his thirteenth birthday when he'd finally gotten a good grip over his magic. Now however, a simple thought had triggered some kind of innate _wandless_ magic. His will alone had stopped the jar from breaking; not accidental magic.

The old lady had looked shocked for a moment, before she had grabbed her cart and had pointed a thin, wrinkled and shaking finger at him. With a terrified expression she had fled down the isle, shouting that he was the devil's child, thusly leaving an awkward Harry standing by the cashier with a jar of pickles in his hand.

More and more such things started happening, and with more frequency and power. What used to be mindless, instinctual magic, now became something much more powerful. Harry only had to visually imagine a cup of tea, and suddenly, there it was, hovering right in front of his face. It had freaked him out at first, but he soon realised that whatever this power was, it wasn't magic - it was something else; and curiously it reminded him of those tendrils of… energy… that had protected him when Voldemort had tried to murder him.

Somehow, oddly, all magic he did with a wand left traces of a 'magical footprint', so to speak, behind. _His_ power however, seemed untraceable for now. Harry's only hope now, was that nothing more drastic happened. He didn't need a third war.

.

Bobby's house was just as disorganised as it always was. Papers were strewn everywhere; books covered every surface, and dust covered _them._ It was an intellectual hunter's paradise. The man himself sat at his desk, nervously tapping a finger against the arm of his wheelchair. He was reading a text about Enochian sigils that he had dug up from God knows where.

Sam stood a little to the side, near the refrigerator, sipping on a bottle of beer, he too was researching. Cas was leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and study, doing his best not to look awkward (and he was failing drastically).

All of them looked up when Dean walked into the house, muddy and covered in dirt; he had been working on his car, probably to concentrate his anger towards the angels on something else, something more productive. He yawned loudly and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"So you find anything?" He asked, his voice a little croaky from disuse - or excessive use. Sam knew for a fact, that Dean loved to sing along to songs playing on the radio, while repairing his car.

Bobby snorted and shut the book with a loud snap; a dust cloud covered him and Sam snorted in amusement. Bobby glared at him for a moment before he set the book aside and reached out for the next one. "So far, nothin'," He said roughly. Dean glanced at Sam who shrugged and set the book he'd been reading aside.

"There's nothing. No book mentions how to kill the Devil," Sam murmured and drank a large gulp of his beer.

"The Angels have been talking about a new party in this war," Castiel murmured suddenly, crossing his arms. He was staring into the distance, gaze unfocused. Dean raised his eyebrows while he propped open the lid of his beer.

"Who are the Dicks bitching about now?" Dean grumbled taking a swig from his beer. Castiel sent him a brief glare which the hunter pointedly ignored.

"There are whispers of a new player. He is powerful and connected to our ways of communication. The Angels do not know who he is or where he is, but he unknowingly projects his thoughts, every now and then," Castiel said seriously, suddenly focusing his unwavering gaze on Dean. Sam frowned.

"So what, he's the Rupert Murdoch of Heaven? Been hacking Angel Radio?" ***3** Dean said with a wide smirk.

"I do not understand that reference," Castiel said, confusion colouring his features.

"You think he's a second Anna? A Fallen Angel or something?" The younger Winchester asked. Bobby perked up from whatever he'd been reading and looked at Cas with interest, waiting for his answer. If this guy turned up to be legit and on their side, they could potentially use him in their fight to end the apocalypse before it even really happened.

"He does not feel like Anna, older perhaps," The Angel murmured before his gaze suddenly became unfocused again. His ears twitched slightly as though he'd just been listening to someone that the Humans couldn't hear. Finally his gaze swept over them again.

"I have to go-" Castiel had barely finished his sentence before he was gone again.

.

His back itched. Horribly. And had been for the past few weeks. But now it was growing to be almost unbearable; he had already been to Diagon Alley (under a disguise of course) and had bought some magical lotion and several potions to relieve the pain. He needed to know what the illness it was to find a cure for it, but right now, he wasn't too fond of ending up in St Mungos's Hospital for a lengthy examination. So medicine it was.

The medication hadn't helped, however, and instead, Harry just found that the itch had only intensified. A quick look in the mirror revealed that his skin was unharmed; it looked normal to him - perhaps a little pale. It was there - right in front of the mirror - where Harry now stood, examining himself. His eyes wandered up to his face and he tilted his head to the side as Harry gazed at his own reflection; was that really him?

He looked tired and hungover (which he was). His hair stuck to his shining, sweaty forehead and his shirt was stained in places where he'd managed to spill canned soup or various sorts of liquors over it. He looked like a mess.

Then in that precise moment, someone decided to ring the doorbell. With a deep sigh, Harry stumbled to the door, gazing at his flat with a wrinkled nose. It looked a bit… unorganised. Shrugging, Harry decided that he wouldn't let the person ringing his doorbell enter his flat anyway, so what the hell.

The door opened with a loud creak and with surprise, Harry realised that it was Hermione who was standing on the other side of the threshold. Her eyebrows shot up when she took Harry in, and that expression quickly transformed into that of horror.

"My God!" She exclaimed. Hermione didn't look any different than usual; she actually looked well-rested though. Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun and she was wearing Muggle clothes so as to blend in with the general population in this area of town.

Harry smirked, "Not really. Harry, just Harry." Offering her his hand, his smirk widened. "Pleasure to meet you." She rolled her eyes and ignored his hand, instead opting for a large bear hug. When Harry didn't return it, she pulled back. She murmured something about 'sweat and change your shirt' but Harry ignored her.

Finally, she sighed and asked seriously: "What's wrong, Harry? You disappeared three weeks ago - you didn't tell anyone anything! I only managed to track you down because Luna… well… she said she had a vision about where you were." She ruffled his hair affectionately, "Are you alright, Harry? You look very tired."

Harry bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder at the spartan-looking living room behind him. Should he invite her in? Seeing her stern look, Harry finally widened the gap between the door and the framework and let her in. For a moment, she just gazed around with a disapproving stare in her eye before she finally caught sight of the general lack of personal effects and the abundance of empty bottles.

"Hermione-" Harry started, trying to explain himself, but she interrupted him.

"-Harry, I know I'm not your mother, but you're my surrogate brother and I need to make sure that you're alright. Harry… drinking, drinking it's not the answer to whatever questions you have."

Harry's laugh was too cynical to actually be considered a laugh. "Yeah, well right now a Macallan 1946-" Harry held up a bottle of whiskey, summoned a tumbler wandlessly and proceeded to pour himself a generous amount (Hermione stared at his casual use of wandless magic - or at least, she thought it was magic), "-Is pretty much the closest thing to an answer I can find. So I'll take that any day." Grinning, Harry gulped down about half of the liquid in the glass before he had to stop because the burn was too strong.

"But Harry… You can't drink like this," She pried the tumbler from his hands and set it on a tabletop. "You just can't. We need you Harry. Ron and the Weasleys, Neville - everyone needs you right now-"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted her bluntly, "Did you come here to lecture me, or did you come because of something else?"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. Finally, after several moments of deliberation, she finally looked up at him again. "Harry, I don't know how to tell you this… but you know how Cho's father was pretty involved in the Ministry before the war and we - the Order of the Phoenix - have gathered some intel from him. Apparently there are whispers that Fudge and his entourage want to arrest you…"

Harry had by then turned around to gaze out of the window and now spun back angrily; an otherworldly fire blazed in his eyes. Hermione flinched a little and Harry forced himself to calm down. "On what grounds?" He demanded angrily.

Hermione looked down at her hands, "Their opinion is that you're a danger to society - that you killed a man… Voldemort."

It took a moment for Harry to fully comprehend what she was talking about and then he felt the anger. It was all-consuming; as though it had already previously been there and this news had only acted as a catalyst for his emotions. Faintly, as though through ear-muffs, he heard bottles and glasses popping and windows shuddering. He could hear a loud, high-pitched sound which he tried to ignore. In the kitchen, the unused pans and pots that had come with the flat started rattling and some even fell of the hooks.

"Harry! Calm down!"

Hermione's voice came from somewhere very far away, as though he were hearing her from the other side of a long tunnel, but it seemed to do the trick. He felt her gentle, hesitant touch on his shoulder and he tried to reign the anger in. He couldn't explode like this in front of Hermione. The pots and pans slowly became still, the windows stopped rattling and a few of the bottles and glasses that had popped reassembled themselves. Hermione glanced at the flat warily, realising that for some reason, Harry had received a power-boost.

"They… _dare_ ," Harry hissed under his breath and Hermione's grip on his shoulder tightened. She leaned in, as though for a hug, but Harry avoided her. "I gave them - the Wizarding world - _everything_. My parents, my childhood, friends, teachers - _everything_ and this is how they repay me?"

And then she slapped him.

For a moment, all Harry could do was stare at Hermione in shock. Then he slowly raised his hand up to his face and pressed his cool fingertips against his cheek, wincing as pain radiated up to his forehead. " _Ouch_! That bloody well hurt!" He exclaimed half in pain and half in amusement and he finally focused his entire attention on Hermione. She was staring at him sternly.

"Harry - snap out of it!" She exclaimed after a moment. Harry continued massaging his cheek; her slap was sure to leave a mark. "Fudge is a master at manipulating people when they're weak. I give it a few weeks and then you'll be the Ministry's public enemy no. 1 again."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Said Harry taking a swig from his bottle. Hermione took a deep breath.

"You have to go to America."

* * *

 **Preview: Chapter 2 (Deals with the episode 'The curious life of Dean Winchester in which Dean gets turned into an 80 year old by losing a poker game):**

 _"Seriously, if this is how you get people to play poker with you, then I seriously worry for the stupidity of some people for falling for this," Harry said in an amused, but controlled voice. At that moment, Harry noticed a young man with Adonis looks stalking towards them. He grabbed Patrick by the arm and tightly jerked him away._

 _"Hey man, can I borrow you for a sec?" He said in a deep and gravelly voice. He sounded quite serious, bordering on panicked-serious._

 _"Oh! Yes, of course. Great. Good to see you!" Patrick said and from Harry's vantage point, he could see the other man pull his leather jacket to the side only to reveal a handgun tucked safely into his trousers. Remembering Moody's advice about storing weapons in such places, Harry winced._

* * *

 **Hello! Thank you for reading this little AN XD**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you stick around, you'll finally see Harry meet the winchesters (and Cassy) during the next chapter! Yay!**

 **I'd like to clear something up though; my Harry is a Lucifer!Harry meaning that he'll be a little sassier and cockier... Or anyway, he'll slowly become that way. XD**

 **ANs:**

 ***1: In case you didn't realise, Harry is talking about his kiss with Cho during his fifth year.**

 ***2: My reasoning is that while Harry was raised with muggles, he has no idea how muggle tech has evolved during his time at Hogwarts.**

 ***3: Rupert Murdoch was on the news a while ago... Idk if you guys remember this, but his company spied on people's phone calls and recorded everything to later publish in his own magazines and newspapers. This is a reference to the fact that 'Someone' has been listening in to conversations going on between angels.**

 **Ok: Anonymous Reviews:**

 **Nono:** Thanks a lot! I hope you stick with this story. XD

 **Dx:** Hahaha I've been told off for using too many descriptions before... but yeah... I'll see to that. Thanks a lot :D


	3. Chapter 2

**Hahah, sorry for not posting yesterday; I met up with a few friends and then sort of stayed over... I never got back to my laptop... but now - Saturday - I am back home and can upload the new chapter.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You're all immensely kind!**

 **OH THIS IS IMPORTANT:**

 _ **Many of you called me out on the fact that Minister Fudge died during the war - well... Idk, I don't remember the movies that well, but I've read the books several times (*sweats* maybe twenty or so?). HIs very last appearance in the books is during Dumbledore's funeral. After that it's never mentioned what happened to him.**_

 _ **Others stated that he wasn't Minister anymore so he couldn't possibly go after Harry. But! You don't have to have official power to go after someone - Fudge, using his charisma and manipulation could just as well amass a group of anti-Harry-ists and go after him. THat was my theory anyway, hope it makes sense.**_

 _Oh, and this chapter refers to episode 7 of season 5 of Supernatural, in which Dean loses 50 years of his life due to losing (poker) to a man named Patrick._

* * *

Playing poker wasn't really as hard as everyone had made it seem. While yes, it was taxing having to constantly count the cards, it was well worth receiving a huge sum of money from winning the game. Harry even remembered how sometime during his third year, a muggleborn in Fred and George's year had somehow taught them the game. They had spent the rest of the year huddled up in a corner of Gryffindor Tower either creating their incredibly elaborate pranks or playing poker with some of the shadier students.

Of course, back then the Twins had told Harry (in good humour) that he and Ron were too innocent to watch such an adult game. As per usual, Harry and Ron had disregarded every rule Hogwarts had about playing betting games and had introduced the game to the three other boys in the dorm. And almost every evening for the next three years after that, was spent playing varieties of poker.

It wasn't a surprise then, that Harry, the moment he had registered with the Muggle authorities in America, found himself a nice little town with a few pubs and gaming corners. It was in one such _modern_ pub at which Harry was now playing.

He was playing Texas Holden against this older fellow who was pretty generous with the amount of chips he betted on his cards. Due to his generosity and frankly, pretty unoriginal strategies, Harry had been gradually, steadily winning back pretty much every penny the man had. Harry smirked inwardly as he gently tugged the corners of his cards upwards and saw that he had two aces. Two other aces already lay on the table.

Glancing at the somewhat older gentleman - who had introduced himself as Cliff Whitlow - Harry noticed that he was tapping his nose in thought; this simple movement told Harry that he was frustrated and was about to make a bluff. So when the man threw the rest of his chips into the middle of the table and proclaimed that he was doing an 'all in', Harry shrugged and tossed all of his chips in too.

That was when Harry saw the nervous gulp.

The man tossed his cards, face up, onto the table and Harry vaguely smirked when he realised that he'd been right. Deliberately taking his time, Harry flipped his own cards over and relished in the satisfaction of seeing a man close his eyes in defeat as his very last chance to win everything back was trumped underneath him.

"Sorry mate; you put up a good fight," Harry mumbled to him. Whitlow pursed his lips nervously, evidently wondering how he could get the money back. Harry scratched the back of his head nervously before he finally jerked his head in the direction of the Irish fellow with whom he'd only briefly spoken with a few nights ago.

"Patrick over there," Whitlow turned in his seat to get a good look at the Irishman, "Plays poker too - maybe you'll have better luck with him. I hear his bets are unique."

Whitlow sighed deeply before nodding in thanks and wondering off in Patrick's direction. Harry shook his head; poor fellow. As far as he'd heard, this Patrick guy was ruthless and most people lost everything after they played with him. But if Whitlow managed to win, then he would win big time - or so he'd heard.

Stretching, Harry decided to call it a night and left the bar.

.

"So, mate, what's your story?" A strongly Irish accented voice suddenly spoke next to him and Harry spun his head to meet the eyes of the Irish fellow who'd been beating everyone at poker for the last few nights. "I'm Patrick, by the way."

Harry raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his Bloody Mary. "My story?"

"Yeah; why does a British fellow end up in a town like this?" The man said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "Why does an Irish fellow end up in a town like this?" He countered. Patrick smirked.

"Touché," He muttered as he chewed on his toothpick. "I asked first though."

Harry pursed his lips for a moment. "Running I suppose."

"Running from what?" Patrick seemed genuinely interested now. Harry shrugged, realising that this was all probably a ploy to get Harry to play poker with him.

"Oh you know, the usual."

Patrick's lady-friend (Lia was it?) moved a few bar chairs so that she was sitting directly next to Harry. "Feel up for a poker game?" She asked, eyes hooded. Her tight top left nothing to Harry's imagination and he smirked.

"Seriously, if this is how you get people to play poker with you, then I seriously worry for the stupidity of some people for falling for this," Harry said in an amused, but controlled voice. At that moment, Harry noticed a young man with Adonis looks stalking towards them. He grabbed Patrick by the arm and tightly jerked him away.

"Hey man, can I borrow you for a sec?" He said in a deep and gravelly voice. He sounded quite serious, bordering on panicked-serious.

"Oh! Yes, of course. Great. Good to see you!" Patrick said and from Harry's vantage point, he could see the other man pull his leather jacket to the side only to reveal a handgun tucked safely into his trousers. Remembering Moody's advice about storing weapons in such places, Harry winced.

"Would you two please excuse me?" Patrick asked, glancing at Harry and Lia, flashing them an almost genuine apologetic grin. Harry raised an eyebrow in thought and shrugged noncommittally. Lia continued to hang on his arm and Harry, smiling civilly, jerked it back before she could grab his watch and run.

"Pleasure, Lia. But I must be on my way," He said, his voice almost insultingly polite. She frowned, but let him go, and grinning to himself, Harry left the bar.

.

Dean felt Castiel's presence appear being him and he straightened and something in his back popped in protest. Placing a hand on that spot, Dean winced and glanced at Bobby. "Is this normal when you're your age?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, "Suck it up princess - you lost now deal with it!" Sam snorted in amusement from his corner of the room. Dean let himself fall onto the bed and he gazed up at Castiel who, much to Dean's chagrin, seemed also to be amused by the whole situation.

"Ah, witches," Cas said after a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Dean gestured at his face, "Look Cas, I look like Freddy Krueger; any way to put me back?" Castiel frowned and shook his head faintly.

"No, magic such as this can only be undone by the caster himself." He paused for a moment and the hope that had momentarily welled up in all three humans in the room dissipated. "However, I am not here because of your… situation." Dean shot him a grade A bitchface.

"You have a lead? Did you find a way to stop the Apocalypse?" Bobby asked, rolling his wheelchair closer to Dean and Cas the latter of whom, Dean suddenly noticed was standing a tad too close to him. Sam also stood up and moved closer to them, hope welling in his eyes.

"Nothing of the sort," Castiel said slowly and Dean watched as Sam deflated for the second time that night. "The man I spoke of at the start of the apocalypse who has been tapping into our Angel Radio is here now."

Sam raised his bowed head and uncrossed his arms, staring at Castiel with shock. He pointed his pointer finger downwards, "What - you mean in this town? Right now?"

Befuddlement briefly crossed Cas' face and he nodded slowly, "Yes, Sam, I believe that is what I just said."

"So, let's hunt down the dude!" Dean exclaimed suddenly, standing up and groaning again when this time, he had to clutch his stomach in pain. Bobby snorted again.

"Boy, haven't you forgotten something?" Bobby asked in his typical gruff voice, but the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards. Castiel's expression very suddenly became very unfocused and when he turned his attention on them a few moments later, his eyes were a little panicked.

"I'll be back," He murmured and disappeared before anyone else could say anything.

"Friggin' Angels, man-" Before Dean could finish whatever he'd been intending to say, Castiel reappeared, this time strongly gripping a young man by the arm.

This young man had glowing, almost otherworldly green eyes, dark messy hair and sharp features. The bags under his eyes had bags of their own, revealing extreme was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt with a blazer and dark jeans. He held two one-hundred dollar chips in one hand and two cards in the other - a pair of kings. And as Dean examined him, he very suddenly realised that the man was quite familiar.

"Hey - you're the dude from the bar!" Dean exclaimed, aggressively marching up to the considerably smaller man.

"Mate, what the hell?!" The young man exclaimed, straightening himself and turning on Castiel angrily. "I was about to pulverise the guy!" Seeing the horrified looks on all the occupants in the room the man rolled his eyes, "Not literally, obviously." He tossed the cards into the air and let out a deep breath through his nose. After a moment, Dean realised that the cards never hit the floor and he exchanged a glance with Sam and Bobby.

Cas however, was still staring at the newcomer intently, eyes narrowed as he tried to make the man out. His head was cocked to the side in thought and Dean, who by now liked to think that he knew Cas pretty well, realised that Cas himself was confused as to who the man was. Said man glared at them all before mockingly dusting his jacket off.

"What the hell are you?" Bobby asked from his chair as Sam and Dean both pulled out their trusty weapons.

"Those won't kill him," Castiel murmured quietly, still staring at the man intently. "Whatever he is, he is powerful."

Sam still brandished his Demon knife. "So what are we dealing with here - a Trickster?" Castiel's eyes narrowed as he continued staring at the man and gently he shook his head.

"He is much too powerful for a Trickster," Castiel replied. The man in question chuckled and tumbled onto the bed, sprawling himself quite extravagantly on the piece of furniture. He crossed is legs and folded his hands under his head.

"Can we stop talking in the third person and start referring to me in the second?" He winked at Castiel, "Let's start with the basics - my name is Harry, who the hell are you? And why did you kidnap me?"

The three humans in the room exchanged hesitant glances, before Dean finally relented and gestured at Bobby, then Sam and finally at himself, "That's Bobby, Sam, my brother and I'm Dean." If the man thought it was odd that Dean looked over eighty and Sam only over thirty, he didn't comment on it. Finally gesturing at Castiel, Dean said; "And that's Cas-"

"You're an angel," Harry - if that was even his name - breathed. Everyone's eyebrows rose at that (save for Cas'; his expression was as blank as usual). Then, dismissing Castiel as though he were no longer interesting, Harry continued, "And _why_ am I here?"

Castiel took a step forwards, leaned down a slight bit and cocked his head to the side, examining Harry thoughtfully. "Your thoughts and emotions have been slipping into our celestial communicational wavelength." The subject of Castiel's examination stared at him blankly for a moment, before turning to Sam with an expression that read 'translate'. Dean would've smiled had the situation not been so serious.

"Angels have a way of communication - we call it Angel Radio - and for some reason you have been tapping into it," Sam summarised neatly; he had always been able to do that. He had always had a way with words. Bobby tapped the wheel of his wheelchair restlessly. Harry turned his incredulous gaze on Castiel.

"Seriously?" At Cas' confused nod, Harry buried his head in his hands. Dean raised an eyebrow at that action; suddenly Harry's behaviour was very much different to the cocky disposition he'd had earlier. "Why can't I be normal for once?" Harry muttered into his hands and when he raised his head to stare at them, Dean suddenly realised how defeated the man looked. He couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen, yet he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"So I guess the voices I've been hearing at the back of my mind are other Angels?" His question was directed at Castiel who nodded once. Dean wanted to bite his lip in nervosity, but his will not to look vulnerable in front of his brother won out and he stayed still. Nevertheless, when he addressed Castiel, there was a faint tremor in his voice:

"Is he another Anna? Is he also a Fallen Angel?"

Castiel's eyes had narrowed as he stared at Harry and his head tilted to the side again. "I do not know. He does not feel Human, nor does he feel Angel, or like a Trickster."

"Look, guys I don't know who the hell Anna is, nor do I care. I came here to the US for some protection and to get away from expectations. I don't need a couple of brothers and their personal Charles Xavier and Cosmo their fluffy godparent (both Bobby and Castiel seemed to take affront to that) to destroy my little personal heaven, okay?" Harry winked at them, " _Anyway_ , I've got places to be, people to sham, toodle-doo!" Still in his lying position, the man wiggled his fingers at them in goodbye and without another word or sound or movement, vanished. ***1**

.

Harry had taken to magically numbing his back in the mornings. He could barely feel anything anymore, but if he took the spell off, the result was considerably worse. It itched like crazy now. While previously, he'd been able to ignored the itch, it now perpetually and persistently annoyed him causing him to scratch his back raw.

Curiously, he noticed that the itch was stronger during the night - during the dreams. Harry sighed as he applied toothpaste on his toothbrush, mulling over his recent dream. While up until now, most of his dreams had been about four brothers, the elder two of which spent their days teaching the younger two to fly and deliver messages, this one had been a slight bit more brutal.

He never heard any names though. The four brothers were all nameless, so Harry had taken to calling the eldest the Arrogant Prick, the second eldest the Rebel, the second youngest the Introvert and the last one, the youngest, the Prankster. And this last dream had been about the the two eldest of the four - the Rebel and the Arrogant Prick. The dream had been about an argument they had about the value of humanity.

The Arrogant Prick sought his fathers approval and attempted to be the 'good son' as he called himself. He wanted to help humanity and love them more than than he loved his father. The Rebel was exactly that, he rebelled against his father's wishes and loved his family more than he loved Humanity. He called Humanity hairless apes in comparison to their family.

Harry was so deep in his thoughts that he barely noticed that he had stopped brushing his teeth and was instead unseeingly staring at the reflection of himself in the mirror. What were these dreams exactly? After his fourth or fifth such dream - which had started in the flat in London - he had concluded that there was simply no way that these brothers were human. He had quickly come to the conclusion that they were in fact Angels.

Coming to the realisation that yes, Angels and that their 'Father', a.k.a. God, were in fact real, caused Harry to briefly reconsider his life choices. To actually _know_ that God was real, to _know_ that the Angels were real was world-shattering. To _know_ that they hadn't tried to stop Voldemort's massacres and the numerous atrocities that had happened over the years (communism in Russia, the World Wars, dictatorship in North Korea, the various foreign and internal wars, etc.), was faith-shattering.

And then, that Angel - Castiel - had zapped him right out of a poker game (right before he'd been about to defeat the guy too) into a messy motel room with two older-looking men (Bobby and Dean) and a younger lad (Sam, was it?). He hadn't in fact realised that he'd been tapping into this so-called 'Angel Radio', and apparently that was the origin of the whispers he'd been hearing these last couple of months.

It was an awesome well of information too; if he concentrated well enough, he could find out a person's name and a short summary of their life, which he supposed was immensely helpful. But apparently, in doing so he had been accidentally using the 'Angel Radio'. This of course, raised a multitude of questions, among them the question: how the hell was it even possible for him, Harry - a human - to pop into the Angel Radio?

Harry shook his head, attempting to clear it, then finished up in the bathroom and strolled back to his hotel room bed. Glancing around said room, Harry frowned. How had Castiel managed to track him down anyway? He'd used numerous protections against wizards, animals and various other creatures (for in America they all seemed a tad more aggressive than in the UK)… so why hadn't these worked against Castiel.

Did he use another form of teleportation? Harry rolled his eyes at his own thought process - well… evidently he did. He was an _Angel_ for God's sake. Did that mean that he needed to move fast? Before the Angel caught up with him again? Glancing around the flat, Harry realised that maybe, it wasn't the most secure place, and finally concluded that he needed to get out of this town as quickly as possible.

* * *

 **Preview chapter 3:**

 _"Wanna prank one last person?" Loki asked after a long silence. Harry shot him a scolding glare, "Don't speak with your mouth full."_

 _Loki gave him a mocking salute and spoke, with a full mouth, "O captain, my captain!"_

 _"Who do you wanna prank?" Harry asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Loki, who seemed to have endless energy, patted him on the shoulder. "No worries, Gandalf, we'll find someone."_

 _Out of nowhere, Loki produced a laptop and hacked into the local sheriff's station database. After a few long moments (in which Harry conjured an icepack to hold over his forehead), Loki finally made an 'aha' sound. "Found something?" Harry asked after a moment. Loki grinned and pointed at the screen._

 _"This asshole has a few accounts of marital abuse and had caused several riots. Quick to anger this one," Loki murmured and when Harry glanced at him, he saw a manic sadistic look of glee appear on his face. "A hothead," Loki summarised._

 _"What - like the Hulk?" Harry finally grumbled, taking the icepack off his head. It took a moment for Harry to realise that Loki had frozen. Then slowly, a huge grin appeared on the Trickster's face and he patted Harry on the back. "I knew there was a reason why I kept you."_

* * *

 **So, um a bit of Lucifer's personality is starting to leak through. The old Harry is still sorta there... but slowly and surely, Lucifer is starting to dominate him. Urgh, I think this is the only fandom where you can write that sentence and not think 'wuuuut?'**

 _ **Oh? Btw, this is totally unrelated to the actual ff, but what did you think of HP and the cursed child? I read it in two hours and thought it was utter and total BS. I hated it. Everyone was Ooc and the plot was very similar to many ffs that I have already read. What did you think of it? Have you read it?**_

 **ANs:**

 ***1 Charles Xavier reference: I guess you all know the dude (you know, the guy from xmen? He's in a wheelchair) and Cosmo reference: haha as a kid I loved the fairy godparents. The guy was called Cosmo.**

 **Anonymous Reviews:**

 **Nono:** Thank you very much!

 **LeafChild:** Thank you! Haha, I always thought Luna had prophet-like behaviour. As for Harry's memories as Lucifer... well, you'll see.

 **Guest:** Hahaha true! I always thought that Harry was pretty sassy in the books (he was pretty mellow in the movies tho)

 **Guest 2:** Wow! THank you for the suggestions! Unfortunately, I won't be writing scenes like that... I find that many stories have scenes like that and frankly... I'm trying to stay away from cliches - as much as possible.

* * *

PS: I absolutely loved writing the next chapter... It'll be about 5k words and it was soooo much fun to write.


	4. Chapter 3

_**ATTENTION READERS: THIS IS NOT A SLASH FIC. THERE WILL BE NO PAIRINGS IN THIS FF (NOT HET, OR SLASH OR ANYTHING ELSE.).**_

 **happy reading!**

 **(PS, I recommend reading this ff in the 1/2 page format... it was formatted to be read like that. If you have an apple computer you can also click on 'reader view' in the search tab)**

* * *

Really, if parents didn't want pedophiles to stalk their children during park visits, they just needed to remove the white benches from the kid area in said parks. Harry for one, had been glared at from more parents in this past hour than he had been from students at Hogwarts. Ever.

When in fact, Harry had only been attempting to show little kids some magic tricks, and maybe gain a dollar or two for his efforts. However, the baseball cap he'd nicked from at tourist lay on the ground, empty. For this reason, Harry decided to move down the park to an area less infested with overprotective parents. Unfortunately, his vault in Gringotts hadn't yielded much money. Most of what had been there from the very start had gone into funding his Hogwarts education resulting in him having only a few hundred galleons. So now, he had to make do with hustling and street magic to simply put bread on the table.

In this new area (a bench next to the hot-dog stand), he quickly attracted a large audience. He was in fact, currently performing a pretty awesome magical sleight of hand. Not that the people knew it of course; they thought it was all just mind-tricks and card-tricks, when in fact, it was real magic. Surrounding him was an audience of circa twenty or thirty people who all eagerly looked on as Harry offered his deck of cards to a middle aged man who looked vaguely familiar.

"Come in close," He said addressing the audience. The audience complied, the fools. "Closer," Harry whispered, "Because the more you think you see, the easier it'll be to fool you. You're looking, but what you're really doing is filtering, interpreting, searching for meaning. My job? To take that most precious of gifts you give me, your attention, and use it against you."

Pausing, Harry rearranged the deck of cards in his hand and now addressed the man who was smirking at him, "I'm going to flip through this deck. And I want you to see one card. Pay close attention," Harry used his thumb to quickly flip through the deck. Seeing the man nod and smirk Harry addressed him again; "Are you ready?"

The man nodded.

"Okay. Now you see one?"

He nodded again and wagging his eyebrows, he murmured an amused 'yes'.

"Do you have one in mind?" Harry asked him with a smirk of his own. The audience stared on, enraptured. The man nodded again and Harry flipped through the deck of cards again.

"Now, do you see your card here?" The man's knowing smirk was starting to annoy Harry. He couldn't possibly know, could he? About Harry being a wizard?

"No," He said with the same amused look in his eye. Harry's eyes narrowed for a brief second before he spun around and now addressed the entire audience, "That's because you're looking too closely." He winked at a particularly attractive girl. "And what have I been telling you this entire time? The closer you look-"

"-The less you see," The audience finished for him. Harry smirked at them and tossed the cards into the air. Shocked, the audience followed the decent of the cards, but as their focus changed from the cards to the skyscrapers behind the park, they started gasping and cheering. Harry smirked one last time as he saw the six of hearts appear on the skyscraper; in the form of lit and unlit office rooms. "Thank you!" Harry shouted before giving them a small bow and eagerly gathering his stolen baseball cap (which now held a few hundred dollars) and slipped away while the audience cheered him on. He never noticed that familiar-looking man following him.

.

"Hey," Sam muttered, tucking the keys of the motel room into his pocket as he closed the door behind himself. Dean looked up from his laptop.

"Find anything?" He asked. Sam pursed his lips for a moment before uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck.

"Uh, well, I saw the house."

"And?"

"And," Sam started, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke, "There is a giant 8-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be." Sam gave his brother an incredulous stare, "Almost like…"

"A Hulk-sized hole," Dean finished. Sam shook his head, just completely and utterly done with the crazy shit that had been going on lately. "What do you got?"

Dean shrugged, "Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper. He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger-management sessions." An ironic smile ghosted over Dean's lips, "You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry."

Realisation his Sam like a truck and he scoffed, "So, a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead. Kind of sounds like just deserts, doesn't it?" He chuckled, "It's all starting to make sense."

Dean's eyebrows rose and he stared at Sam with a look that said 'nerd'. "How is it starting to make sense?"

Sam smirked and reached into his pocket, "Well, I found something else a the crime scene." He pulled out a wad of candy wrappers and tossed them on Dean's keyboard. "Candy wrappers. Lot's of 'em."

"Just deserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill them." Dean said finally using his index finger to toss the wrappers off his computer. "We're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?"

"Sure looks like," Sam said, dropping himself on the bed.

Dean smirked viciously. "Good. Been wanting to gank that motherfucker since mystery spot." A thought popped into Sam's head. Was it really worth it? Killing the Trickster - did they really have to do it?

"You sure?" Sam mumbled.

Dean shot him a sharp glare. "What do you mean, I'm sure?"

"No, I mean, are you sure you want to kill him?" Sam asked after a moment as he folded a sweater he'd left on the bed earlier, eager to do something to distract himself. He saw Dean throw his hand into the air in exasperation. Sam's thoughts turned to Ruby - what if they trusted the Trickster and then ended up fucking that up too?

"Sonovabitch didn't think twice about ganking _me,_ " Dean said, tone angry. He paused for dramatic effect, then continued with his justification, "A thousand times."

"No, I know. I-I mean I'm just saying-" Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

"What are you saying? If you don't want to kill him then what?"

"Talk to him?" _Yeah real smooth Sammy_ , Sam thought to himself, wincing inwardly. Glancing uncomfortably at Dean, he noticed the latter staring at him incredulously. His expression was coloured with bemusement and shock.

"What?!"

"Look think about it, Dean. He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him."

"For what?"

"Okay, Trickster's like a - like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song. Maybe he doesn't want the party to end. I mean, maybe he hates this 'Angels and Demons' stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us." Sam wet his lips uncertainly. They needed all the help they could get in their fight to stop the Apocalypse. If this was how he had to sell it to Dean, then so be it.

"You serious?" Dean's voice had a sudden undertone of warning which Sam decided he didn't like.

"Yeah," Said the younger Winchester with a vague shrug. Dean's expression was slightly mocking as he spoke, "Ally with the Trickster?"

"Yeah," Sam reiterated, turning his back on Dean. The elder brother marched towards Sam and with one swift movement turned him back around.

"A bloody violent monster - and you want to be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy." Said man gulped uncertainly, knowing that Dean was finally thinking about what had happened with Ruby.

"The world is gonna end, Dean," He finally muttered, "We don't have the luxury of a moral stand. I'm just saying, it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work… we'll kill him." Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying not to lash out in anger. Then he finally said, "How are we gonna find the guy anyway?"

Sam smirked slightly, and crossed his arms, "Well, he never takes just one victim, right? He'll show."

.

 _A few hours earlier:_

It was only a few minutes into his walk back to the hotel room he'd booked, that the hairs on Harry's back suddenly stood on end. A glance behind him revealed that he was alone on the dark street. However, Harry had lived with wizards for far too long to not know that some people could disguise themselves magically. So, the second time Harry looked behind his shoulder, he glanced down at the wet ground - sure enough, he saw the little puddles wobble every time someone walked into or next to them.

Smirking inwardly to himself, Harry sharply took the next right and pressed himself as tightly as he could against the wall. Then he heard them - the footsteps. He held his breath and gently withdrew his wand, even though he was pretty sure he didn't need it. It didn't hurt to be prepared, though. And then, almost following a second instinct, Harry jumped out from behind the corner, grabbed hold of whatever invisible person had been following him and jabbed his wand into the person's jugular.

The figure was now pressed between Harry's body and the wall. Said wizard heard a low, suggestive whistle before the figure underneath him rippled and a man physically appeared before him. Harry very suddenly realised that the very same man had been staring at him during his little show and had curiously also been one of the people that had shown up when he'd used the Resurrection Stone. He didn't mention all of this though and instead pressed his wand harshly against the man's throat.

"Oooh, kinky," The man said, waggling his eyebrows. The perpetual downwards tilt of Harry's eyebrows sharpened into a deeper frown and for a moment, the man shrank back. Harry assumed it was probably because his eyes had a tendency to glow a little when he was pissed, and that probably intimidated people a little.

"Why the hell were you following me?" Harry bit out. The man smirked cockily and glanced down at the wand.

"You're a witch and I like annoying Gandalfs like you." His voice had that same cocky tone. Harry's glare sharpened.

"I'm a _wizard_ ," Harry bit out. The man laughed.

"Ha! Semantics."

For a moment, Harry just glared at the man, then with one frustrated sigh, he released him and tucked the wand back into his wand-holster. "Look, just stop following me - got it?"

The man pressed a hand against his chest, looking mockingly hurt. "I'm hurt! I don't even know your name!" Harry rolled his eyes, turned his back on the man and started walking down the street only to stop in his tracks as he very suddenly bumped into the man again, who had very suddenly appeared right in front of him. And was that a flutter of wings that Harry had just heard…?

Harry back-pedalled a few steps. "Mate! Just leave me alone - or I swear, I'll blast your arse off!"

The man blinked at him for a moment before a smirk slowly appeared on his face, "I'm Loki. Weeeell, people call me Loki. Who are _you_? I'll leave you alone if you tell me - seriously." Harry made an animalistic sound of frustration, spun around and started walking in the opposite direction. _Loki_ just appeared in mid-step directly next to him and started walking alongside Harry.

"Hey - what do you say we go bowling?" Loki asked after a moment of silence. Harry refused to indulge him and with one last glare, apparated - this time to his hotel room. Unfortunately, it seemed that Loki's tracking abilities weren't too shabby because seconds later he appeared on the large kings-size bed. He was sucking on a lolly now and was waggling his eyebrows at Harry.

"Aw, come on. Don't keep me in suspense!" Loki's voice suddenly seemed much less mocking. Harry spun around. "Ok!" The wizard raised two placating hands, "If I tell you my name, you'll leave me alone - yeah?"

Loki gave him a large shit-eating grin and he nodded once. "I promise."

"Harry. Harry Potter." Said man finally said. Loki's eyebrows rose for a moment and he stared at Harry incredulously.

" _You're_ Harry Potter?" He finally exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't need some sort of hero-worship from American wizards now.

"Yeah, got a problem?"

Loki's grin dulled for a moment, "My - ehm - family keeps track of remarkable people. They have - ehm - been talking 'bout you for a long time." Harry frowned at him for a moment. Evidently this man was a wizard too (after all, he could apparate) and he knew of magical Britain and it's recent history… after all, he had recognised Harry's name.

"So." Harry finally murmured and pointed to the door, "You promised you'd leave. So: leave." Loki wagged his finger at Harry and gave him one large smirk, "I promised - but I lied. See, I was crossing my fingers." Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his closed eyes with the balls of his hands. God, what had he done to deserve this asshole? All he wanted was a little peace from all the Boy-Who-Lived shit. And maybe he also wanted to create some chaos in the muggle world while he was at it.

When he reopened his eyes, Harry reeled back in shock. Staring around himself, Harry discovered that he now stood in something that looked like a bowling alley and somehow, the man had managed to transport him elsewhere without even touching him.

There were ten or so lanes, five of which were currently being used by men who curiously looked like bikers. Harry turned his head, trying to fully comprehend what was going on, and then his gaze rested upon Loki, who had crossed his arms and was smirking.

" _Bloody hell_! Don't tell me you've kidnapped me?" Harry stared up at the ceiling, "God, please tell me what the fuck I did wrong?"

Loki rolled his eyes and gestured at one of the unused lanes. He helped himself to a ball and Harry noticed that the screen above the alley turned on. It showed a table and Harry realised it was used to count points. Currently, the first column highlighted, at the top of which Harry could make out a sentence: _Loki, the devilishly handsome fellow._ Rolling his eyes, Harry crossed his arms and dropped onto one of the sofas standing near their lane. He might as well roll with it for the time being.

Loki had, meanwhile, glanced back at him with an exasperated look, "The Big Man hasn't been home for a while now. I don't think praying to him will be all that effective." He shrugged, "What can I say, the man's an asshole." He threw his ball. All of the pins toppled down. Loki spun around and spread his arms wide. He was grinning, "Who da man?"

Harry gave him a look that said 'bitch, please'. Loki laughed and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Your turn, Gandalf."

Harry looked up at the screen: Loki now had ten points, and the name above Harry's table was 'Gandalf, the wand-wielding Chosen-One'. Groaning at the fucked-up-iness of it all, Harry grabbed a ball and tossed it uncaringly. It would have rolled into the gutter, but with his wandless magic, Harry steered it back on track. Strike. Ten points.

.

By the end of the first bowling game, Harry had slightly warmed up to the prankster. By the end of the second, they were both slightly tipsy (a bartender had brought them a few alcoholic beverages), and by the third, they were stumbling out of the bowling alley, grinning like fools. As it usually is when one becomes drunk, foolish ideas very suddenly become very reasonable and very rational ideas. ***1**

Harry, a drunk wizard (who really had freedom for the first time in his life) and Loki, a tipsy Trickster (as Harry had found out during their bowling game), turned out wasn't the most ideal combination of people if one wanted to avoid chaos and disorder. And so it was, that Loki and Harry ended up stumbling around town, pranking the rare people they encountered; after all, four A.M. wasn't generally the most active time of the day.

By seven o'clock, most of the alcohol had drained out of Harry's system (said wizard had never been so thankful to be a wizard) and his thought processes had gone back to normal; more or less. Loki, who had only been slightly tipsy anyway, was still acting as though under the influence of alcohol. Although Harry suspected this was probably his usual disposition.

They were huddled in the park where Harry had originally done his first magic trick and thusly conned a group of unsuspecting tourists; only now the park was relatively empty. Harry had managed to find a bakery that opened at six thirty and had bought himself a few pretzels to munch on. And now, he and Loki sat, sprawled over one of the numerous benches littered around the small lake, munching on pretzels and watching the sunrise.

It was surprisingly peaceful; considering all the pranks they'd pulled during the night.

"Wanna prank one last person?" Loki asked after a long silence. Harry shot him a scolding glare, "Don't speak with your mouth full." ***2**

Loki gave him a mocking salute and spoke (with a full mouth), "O captain, my captain!" ***3**

"Who do you wanna prank?" Harry asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Loki (who seemed to have endless energy) patted him on the shoulder. "No worries, Gandalf, we'll find someone."

Out of nowhere, Loki produced a laptop and hacked into the local sheriff's station database. After a few long moments (in which Harry conjured an icepack to hold over his forehead), Loki finally made an 'aha' sound. "Found something?" Harry asked after a moment. Loki grinned and pointed at the screen.

"This asshole has a few accounts of marital abuse and had caused several riots. Quick to anger this one," Loki murmured and when Harry glanced at him, he saw a manic sadistic look of glee appear on his face. "A hothead," Loki summarised.

"What - like the Hulk?" Harry finally grumbled, taking the icepack off his head. It took a moment for Harry to realise that Loki had frozen. Then slowly, a huge grin appeared on the Trickster's face and he patted Harry on the back. "I knew there was a reason why I kept you."

.

The end result was hilarious.

While on one hand, a man had died (Harry kept trying to justify that with the fact that he'd known that the man was a terrible human being), but on the other… Oh, it had been so much fun to watch the Hulk destroying everything and the wife watching on with a mixture of horror and fascination and shock. Loki had found it particularly funny.

And then that was when Loki and Harry saw them; Sam and Dean Winchester.

Only now, curiously, they were no longer accompanied with Dean's Angel boy-toy. When Loki and Harry saw them, they were marching determinedly to the Sheriff's station, dressed in official 'FBI garb'. Harry's eyebrows arched at that; it seemed that after all, Sam and Dean _could_ look classy.

Harry and Loki were still sitting at the edge of the park when they saw the Winchesters leave the station. They seemed to be discussing something very seriously. Expressions such as shock and disbelief kept crossing their faces. "D'you think they're here about the Hulk?" Harry asked after a moment. "Didn't you say they are something called… hunters? And that they try to kill anything supernatural going on?" The unspoken question hung in the air: _Are they after you too?_

Loki sat on the bench, rubbing his hands mischievously together. When he looked at Harry, there was a familiar glint in his eye; Harry had seen it a lot on the Weasley Twins' faces. Harry rolled his eyes at that, "OK, oh legendary Trickster, what are you planning now?" Loki winked at him, "Oooh, these Winchesters and I have a long history. We go waaaay back. These guys deserve an extra special cocktail of pranks," Loki said, still grinning. Harry shook his head, exasperated. He'd known Loki for less than a day and already he felt like the man was some sort of long-lost, prank-obsessed little brother.

"How about throwing them into… T.V. Land?"

.

Gabriel's surroundings flickered slightly and then disappeared, revealing that the Winchesters and he were in fact standing in a warehouse just out of town, and not in fact in a beautiful forrest road. With slight horror and panic, Gabriel suddenly realised that he was stuck in a ring of holy fire. Damn them. Damn the Winchesters.

Glaring briefly at the flickering fire, he reviewed his entire prank - where had he gone wrong? Had banishing Castiel been too much? Was that how the Winchesters had managed to figure it out? Harry hadn't told them, that much he was sure of; anyway, Harry didn't even know who he really was. After all, they had only met last night. Harry only knew of his alter-ego.

Speaking of Harry, where was he?

All stray thoughts circulating in his mind were swept aside as the elder Winchester addressed him. Gabriel felt a mocking smirk coming on his face and he sarcastically started clapping his hands when he noticed that the boys had managed to entrap him in a ring of holy fire.

"Well played boys, well played," He murmured in that same sarcastic tone. "Where'd you get the holy oil?" Of course, he knew they had it from Castiel, but it didn't hurt to stall a little. Who knew, maybe the circle would break before they managed to interrogate him completely.

"Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass," Dean said, equally as sarcastically. Gabriel rolled his eyes at that. Dean was of course referring to the fact that Sam had briefly been the impala in T.V. Land. Sam looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Where'd I screw up?" Gabriel asked, honestly wanting to know. Sam's reply was quick and short.

"You didn't," He said, "But nobody gets the jump on Cas like you do," He finished. Gabriel almost snorted derisively. There were so many hundreds of things, creatures, witches, wizards etc, that could get the 'jump' on Castiel.

"Mostly it as the way you talked about the Armageddon," Dena continued.

"Meaning?" Gabriel questioned, tilting his head to the side, and hating the action almost instantly because so many of his brothers did that same thing when confused.

"Well call it personal experience, but no one gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family." Dean was right of course and Gabriel briefly looked at the door behind the Winchesters. He knew of course that he couldn't just leave like that… But Harry _would_ be able to appear in the warehouse and extinguish the fire. Where the hell was he?

"So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy or Douchey?" Sam asked with an angry smirk. Gabriel suddenly remembered that the younger human had once prayed to the Angels; how very disillusioned had he become? Gabriel turned his golden eyes on Sam.

"Gabriel, okay?" The Archangel said, knowing that the could not stall any longer, "They call me Gabriel." it was almost amusing to watch how their expressions morphed: Sam's grew slightly afraid but awed and Dean's became closed off and dark. Sam evidently understood the gravity of the name because, for a moment, he bit his lip uncertainly and when he spoke, his voice quavered slightly: "Gabriel? The Archangel?"

Gabriel smirked, "Guilty."

"Okay, Gabriel. How does an Archangel become a Trickster?" Dean's voice had a dark element to it and Gabriel briefly considered taunting him. Although, right now, he mused, probably wasn't the best time nor place to prank anyone. Well it wasn't like his powers could reach over the circle of holy fire, anyway.

"My own private witness protection programme," Gabriel finally said. He was however interrupted from saying anything else, when a loud crack sounded in the warehouse and all eyes turned to a young man with shocking green eyes and a messy head of inky black hair. Gabriel felt the tension leave his shoulders almost instantly.

There was something odd about Harry. He strolled over to the Winchesters, but the glint in his eyes was different to what Gabriel had gotten used to during their evening together. Harry suddenly didn't look all that human; his eyes shone with power and protectiveness and as he walked forwards to the Winchesters, Gabriel felt a blanket of that same power and authority envelop everything and everyone in the room; it was almost oppressive. And it felt… familiar.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Harry finally commanded, glancing at Gabriel, at the holy fire and then at the Winchesters.

"How'd you know where to come?" Gabriel's voice was uncomfortably loud in the utter silence that Harry's oppressive power had caused. Harry's head tilted to the side and he glanced at Gabriel with confusion. "Dude, you called me," Harry finally said, causing Gabriel's eyebrows to skyrocket. Gabriel hadn't been consciously protecting his call for help - he knew that if he concentrated enough, even a human could briefly hear him, but for Harry to have done so autonomously, he had to have a permanent connection to Angel Radio, or at least have some telepathic abilities.

"What he hell - you two know each other?" Dean demanded, staring between Harry and Gabriel.

Harry smirked. "Yeah, who do you think thought of the Hulk?" Then, Harry raised a hand and slowly lowered it. The flames, along with the hand, dropped and then disappeared. Gabriel shot him a thankful look and cockily stepped over the circle which was now nothing more than a circle of charred ground. The Winchesters, for the first time, looked worried. Gabriel was just reaching out to grab Harry's shoulder and teleport them away when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Wait - no one's leaving till we've cleared this crap up." Sam took a deep breath. "What the hell is going on? And where is Cas?"

Gabriel waved his hand vaguely, "Pfff, he's out there somewhere."

"Well, bring him back!" Dean demanded. Gabriel's eyes narrowed - who was this human to tell him what to do?

"And why would I do that?" Gabriel snarled at him. But when the Archangel reached out with his hand again, Harry moved away from him.

"Loki, please," Harry's voice was small - in comparison to what it had been moments ago, but it was enough to make Gabriel cooperate; for the time being anyway. Rolling his eyes, Gabriel flicked his wrist and Castiel reappeared, fully repaired and healed. Dean glanced at him briefly.

"Cas, you ok?" The elder Winchester said. Castiel's eyes found Dean's and he nodded, and then his bright blue, _innocent_ eyes fell on Gabriel's. For a brief moment, Gabriel thought he saw betrayal in them. "Hello Gabriel," Cas said in his usual gravely voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw Harry's eyebrows skyrocket. For Harry's benefit, Gabriel smirked at Cas and murmured his greeting; "Hey bro."

"Urgh, I'm getting a headache again," Harry finally said, raising a hand to his forehead. All eyes turned to him and when he spoke again, Gabriel saw that there was a hint of betrayal in his eyes too. "Ok, so let me get this straight; Loki the Trickster is really Gabriel the Archangel? And you guys," Harry gestured at the Winchesters and Castiel - Team Free Will, "Wanna stop the Apocalypse." Harry swung back to Loki, "And I assume that you were trapped here in that circle of fire or whatever 'cause they want you to help them?"

"That pretty much summarises it," Sam said after a moment, smiling sympathetically.

"So I just spent an entire night bowling and playing pranks on people with an _Archangel_?" Harry's eyes were still closed and he was pressing on the nose of his bridge with his pointer finger and thumb. Everyone but Gabriel exchanged 'wtf-glances'.

"But who the hell are you?" Dean said, rounding on Harry, "We've cleared everything else up - but how do you fit into the equation?"

Harry's eyes popped open and he stared at Dean in genuine surprise, "What? I'm Harry. Just Harry - y'know human and British."

"I think we can all agree upon the fact that he's not quite human," Castiel said, finally speaking up. Harry's head jerked over to Cas and then back to Gabriel as though to say 'can you believe this guy' but Gabriel didn't give him the reassurance that the man needed. Instead he bowed his head slightly.

"I suspected - that you aren't human," Gabriel said after a moment and watched helplessly as all hope drained from Harry's face.

"So what - am I a Fallen Angel as Cas kept saying during my last visit?"

Gabriel nodded after a moment - yes, that would make perfect sense. Of course. That was also why his very presence seemed so familiar, and it explained why he had caught Gabriel's eye in the first place. Now there was only the matter of convincing the Winchesters that Harry wasn't dangerous and that Gabriel could take care of him. Of course, Gabriel growled angrily to himself, as usual, everything went exactly the opposite way things were planned because the next second a phone - Harry's phone - started ringing… and it was playing ' _Sympathy for the Devil_ ' by the Roling Stones. ***4**

* * *

 **Preview chapter 4:**

 _"Look," Dean said, raising his gun again and Gabriel rolled his eyes, not this again. "You have to come with us. You can stay with our friend Bobby. You seem like a powerful kid and somehow I think that both Heaven and Hell will try to use your ass for their side (Gabriel almost snorted at the unintended innuendo - ah, immaturity was his greatest virtue). Bobby's house is warded and if Cas spells your ribs, the other Angel's won't be able to find you."_

 _If Harry thought that 'spells your ribs' was something odd to say, he didn't show it. The Wizard rolled his eyes and lowered his hands cockily, evidently not taking Dean's gun as a threat anymore. "What, and join your side? What side is that, hm?"_

 _Castiel was the one who spoke up now, he took a step to join Dean at his side. His expression was very serious as he spoke; his voice even more so, "We fight for Humanity." And as he said this, he glanced pleadingly at Gabriel, who very conveniently turned his attention to the leaking pipes overhead._

* * *

 **Hello! So, I really enjoyed writing this chapter... Gabriel is just so much fun to write.**

 **By the way, I have just finished writing Finding Grace (another HP/SPN story I started about two months ago) and the only story I'm currently working on is this one... I have set up a poll on my profile for potential stories I might write in the next few months... feel free to nudge me in the right direction (or at least, the one you consider to be correct). Bottom line is, you can vote on what my next story will be about.**

 **oh! And btw, y'know that card trick that Harry does - that'd from the movie now you see me... I just thought I'd mention that disclaimer and all**

 **References:**

 ***1:** Ehm. Yes.

 ***2:** Harry's acting as an older brother would.

 ***3:** Oh Captain my captain is from Robin Williams' legendary film 'the dead poets' society'

 ***4:** One of the greatest songs of all time by the rolling stones. Look it up on youtube. Seriously, they are amazing (I literally have all of their albums on my ipod. Anyway, I hope the irony of my choice of ringtone isn't lost on you guys. XD

 **Anonymous Reviews:**

 **AnotherGuest:** Thank you for your kind reviews! I'm glad you're liking the story... Hahah, I've spent a _lot_ of nights playing poker with friends or family!

 **nono:** Thank you!

 **Qwerty:** Hahah, i love your penname - hahaha yes! Loki/Gabriel is back! XD


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Um, thanks for reading so far... Btw, I think this is going to be a long ff (well, I'm not sure how long, but long in comparison to my other fics... so maybe ca. 40-50k words. I'm already at 25k or so btw)**

* * *

Almost the instant Harry's phone started to ring, Dean raised his gun and pointed it at Harry suspiciously. For a moment no one seemed to breathe nor move, finally, Harry slowly raised his hands and then with his left hand reached into his blazer's inside pocket. Gently, he withdrew an ancient-looking phone. It was still playing his ringtone, 'Sympathy with the Devil'.

Dean approached Harry, taking long strides and stretched one hand out "Phone. Now," The elder Winchester commanded and Harry smirked at him before passing him the phone.

"Ooh, I get so tingly when you get so bossy," Harry said winking saucily at him. _Attaboy_! Gabriel privately thought to himself… but then considering the looks Harry and Castiel sent him, he surmised that he'd projected too loudly. Dean rolled his eyes and tucked his finger between the two parts of the flip-phone and took the call; he then put it on loudspeaker.

"Oh, _Merlin_! Thank _Merlin_ you answered! I was starting to get worried! Harry, tell me, are you alright-" A female Human started on the other side of the line, but was quickly interrupted by the elder Winchester. A quick glance at Harry told Gabriel that he knew who she was - a soft smile had even appeared on his otherwise usually sharp and cold face.

"Lady, shut up. Who the hell are you?" There was a long pause on the other line and for a moment, Gabriel thought that she had hung up, but then she spoke, dangerously so.

"Who are you? What have you done with Harry?" Dean seemed about to answer but then caught sight of Harry gesturing to the phone with a pleading look on his face. Dean exchanged a glance with his brother who shrugged in a universal gesture of 'sure' or 'ok'. The elder Winchester tossed the phone over to Harry, who caught it effortlessly.

"Hello, Hermione!" Harry said excitedly, but even Gabriel knew that at least half of the emotion in that short sentence was faked. There was, however, an audible sigh of relief on the other side of the line. "Don't worry," He started, before she could start bombarding him with questions, "I'm perfectly fine - the American ministry is pretty disorganised, they didn't even realise that I'm here. Oh and the guy you just talked to - that's Dean Winchester. He's an ass, and he's totally not pointing a gun at me right now." Gabriel felt a wide smile of amusement appear on his face. The sarcasm alone in that last sentence would have him amusedly smirking to himself for weeks.

"Are you sure Ron and I shouldn't come-" She started after a moment, evidently needing it to sort out the important facts from the unimportant.

Harry chuckled, "The Ministry is after me anyway. They're probably tailing you and Ron - stay in the UK, I'll visit when I can." Gabriel's eyebrow arched; 'the Ministry' was after Harry? The way he said it implied that it was an institution of some kind, possibly a magical government. He knew of course that Harry had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort (even _he_ kept in touch with the happenings in that world), but why was the Ministry after him?

This was evidently also Sam's line of thought because his eyebrow also similarly arched as he stared at Harry with newfound interest. Castiel stood next to him and put a placating hand on Dean's shoulder when the latter attempted to ask precisely why Harry was on the run.

"Well… if you're sure," Hermione continued. Harry wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the barrel of the gun again.

"Ehm, Hermione, I'll call you back. I, uh, have to _disarm_ an alarming situation." Gabriel almost rolled his eyes at the pun. "Eh… Goodbye!" He switched the phone off before she could respond and tucked it back into his pocket.

"On the run, eh?" Dean demanded, slowly lowering his gun as he noticed that Harry wasn't setting a bomb off or something, "Who you on the run from?"

Harry yawned and sauntered over to Gabriel. They exchanged a smirk. "Meh, you know. A few people. The government mainly."

This caused many eyebrows to rise, "The government, huh, what'd you do?" Sam continued with the interrogation. Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

"I killed someone." This very sudden and sincere statement seemed to throw everyone off. Even Gabriel shot him a sidelong glance. Harry had seemed so innocent, if a little jaded this entire time… but now he saw the darkness in his eyes, he saw the deep, dark maturity in him - these were not the eyes of a normal man his age; these were not the eyes of innocence. Dean and Sam exchanged a long glance; both seemed to be trying to figure out what to do next.

"Look," Dean said, raising his gun again and Gabriel rolled his eyes, not this again. "You have to come with us. You can stay with our friend Bobby. You seem like a powerful kid and somehow I think that both Heaven and Hell will try to use your ass for their side (Gabriel almost snorted at the unintended innuendo - ah, immaturity was his greatest virtue). Bobby's house is warded and if Cas spells your ribs, the other Angel's won't be able to find you."

If Harry thought that 'spells your ribs' was something odd to say, he didn't show it. The Wizard rolled his eyes and lowered his hands cockily, evidently not taking Dean's gun as a threat anymore. "What, and join your side? What side is that, hm?"

Castiel was the one who spoke up now, he took a step to join Dean at his side. His expression was very serious as he spoke; his voice even more so, "We fight for Humanity." And as he said this, he glanced pleadingly at Gabriel, who very conveniently turned his attention to the leaking pipes overhead.

For a tiny, short, speck of time, Gabriel almost felt remorse and guilt for not helping them. Harry, however laughed coldly and his eyes flashed. Gabriel very suddenly realised that his green eyes were more often than not, cold and unfeeling.

"So basically, what you're saying is that I shouldn't fight for the dudes upstairs or the guys in the basement, because apparently they're going to try to use me? Oh, and you're also saying that I should fight for _you_." A tiny smirk appeared on Gabriel's lips as he realised where this was going. The Winchesters, however seemed quite oblivious. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical? You are, in effect, attempting to use me as well." Harry finished with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

However, before either Winchester could reply, Harry started pacing, all the while staring at them. "And really, let's be honest here. This is the apocalypse and you need all of the help you can get. Loki - Gabriel, whatever - obviously doesn't want to. I don't really feel like it cause believe it or not, this is the first time in my life that I'm free and I don't exactly want to be under someone's control again."

Gabriel inwardly cheered on his partner in crime.

"Look, dude: This is bigger than us - all of us," Sam replied, gesturing about with his hands. "And sure, Angels are dicks so we can't blame _Gabriel_ for being a douchebag and not wanting to help _stop the apocalypse-_ "

"Ok, ok, ok! Enough with the guilt-tripping me.," Harry said, letting out a short, cold laugh. "Fine. I'll go to your friends' house and I'll se what I can help you with. But I'm not saying around - I can't go through all of that shit again. I won't go to war again. But I'll stay around for a little - just 'cause your interesting."

.

Harry, who had spent the majority of his holidays during his fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts at Grimmauld Place, was quite used to dingy houses with dark corners and suspicious jars of full of innards laying about. That was why upon entering 'Bobby's' house, he barely batted an eyelash at the alarming decor. Any normal Human would have slowly backed out and called the police to investigate the various oddities in the house, but not Harry. He reasoned that after seeing decorations such as beheaded, taxidermied House Elves or the troll-leg umbrella stand at in the entrance hall of Sirius' house, buildings filled with dead man's blood couldn't really scare him off.

They had spent the majority of the day driving in the Impala in complete silence. Dean, being the controlling older brother (as Harry was starting to realise), had driven them, while Sam sat in the shotgun seat, stonily staring ahead. Harry had sat smack in the middle of the back seat with Gabriel (who had insisted to come on the basis that he didn't want his new bowling-buddy to be killed) on his left side and Castiel on his right.

The Archangel had spent much of the ride alternating between staring out the window and whining about how slow and confining cars were. Harry had sent several silencing spells his way which Gabriel had easily batted away. It seemed that even supercharged wizard magic was no competition to a combination of Grace and pagan-god magic.

Upon arriving at the house, Harry had initially been shocked that Gabriel had even managed to stay with them the entire ride and not fly off. While for Harry this wasn't exactly unpleasant, for Dean, who seemed to utterly abhor Gabriel, it was slight torture.

"Two for one!" Gabriel exclaimed while Dean parked the car and asked the Archangel why he was still there. "Can't have one without the other."

The man who opened the door was pretty much the opposite of what Harry had imagined he would look like. For one, he was stuck in a wheelchair and was quite old, which Harry supposed was a rarity in the hunter-community. Similarly, Aurors almost never reached the second half of a century. He was waring a cap (indoors!) and Harry was pretty sure that Hermione and even professor McGonagall would've frowned at that. His slightly unkempt appearance made him appear gruff and unapproachable.

With one glance, he took in the entire group, not batting an eyelash at the odd picture they painted. Finally, his gaze rested upon Harry and his eyes flickered at his lightning bolt scar. Bobby didn't react at it, which Harry took as an indication that he didn't know who he was - not in the magical world anyway. "Can't say I'm glad to see you again," The man said bluntly. Harry pursed his lips and exchanged an amused glance with Gabriel.

"Eh, rude," He muttered and followed Sam and Dean as they entered the house. Gabriel and Castiel close behind them.

"Homey," Gabriel sarcastically muttered to Harry lowly as they moved to the side. Harry cracked a small smirk and glanced around, taking everything in. The had entered through the front porch and now stood in a hallway. Harry could see two doorways - one led into a modest kitchen and the other to a library filled to the brim with odd books. To the left he could see a flight of stairs, presumably leading to the basement (and he wouldn't be surprised if it led to a torture chamber) and upstairs to the living quarters.

He was so enraptured by his examination, that Harry never even realised that Bobby had rolled over to him, with several tools on his lap.

"Ouch! Goddamn it! What the hell is your problem, mate?!" Harry yelped loudly as he felt hot, white pain originate on his wrist and found that Bobby had cut his wrist open with a silver knife. The Winchesters watched on grimly, staring at the wound. When nothing happened (safe for Harry letting out curse-words that would make sailors blush), their faces rearranged themselves into that of sympathy.

Next, Bobby tossed his flask at Harry. "Drink," He commanded lowly. For a moment, Harry blinked owlishly at him and Bobby rolled his eyes. "That's holy water mixed with salt. You drink it and nothing happens, we'll know you're not a demon."

"Bloody hell, you're worse than Moody," Harry muttered lowly and took a swig. As predicted, nothing happened. The faint tension in Sam and Dean's shoulders that had been present this entire time, gently dissipated and Dean gestured at Harry to come closer - to the library. The brothers directed him to a worn sofa and Harry gratefully took the seat. Dean pulled up a chair across him while Sam stayed standing.

"Look, Potter, we're sorry 'bout this. No one deserves to have something like this sprung on them-" Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at the elder Winchester.

"I don't know what you guys think I'm going to do for you - but I said so earlier, I'm not here to stay. I'm tired of fighting - and being used by people - so don't start apologising. If you're going to manipulate me, at least be honest about it. From my experience, the more you hide your manipulations, the more people die." His little speech resulted in a slightly shocked Dean and a bemused Sam.

"You keep talking about fighting and war - what the hell happened?" Sam asked after a moment. Harry briefly closed his eyes as images of the Battle of Hogwarts flashed through his mind. That had only been about a month and a half ago, but the images were still as fresh as though he were standing there right now.

"I'm a wizard - and before you ask, no, we don't make deals with demons or some shit like that. We're born with magic and we differentiate between female and male magic-wielders. Witches and wizards respectfully. That's why I can do all the stuff that I do. We had a war recently; one side was for extermination or incarceration of muggles - that is, non magical folk such as you - and the other, my side, was for equality between all Humans. I ended it. So as you might guess, that's enough bloodshed for me."

Dean was staring at him with something akin to horror and revulsion and Harry sighed, giving up. Bigoted assholes would always be bigoted assholes. "But we've never heard of you guys…" Sam said, trailing off when Harry's intense eyes fell on him.

"Look, _moose_ (he'd actually picked that up from Gabriel who apparently picked it up from Crowley - a demon), just because you haven't heard of it, doesn't mean it exists."

"Attaboy!" Someone said directly to Harry's right and he almost jumped out of his skin in shock when his eyes rested on Gabriel who had very suddenly appeared directly next to him on the sofa. He was once more munching on a chocolate bar. Sensing that someone else had entered the room, Harry glanced up and saw that Castiel and Bobby were moving towards them, crowding around Harry. The veteran Hunter's eyes were narrowed as he took Gabriel and Harry in; evidently the Archangel hadn't exactly amused him while he had completed the tests.

"So Cassy and I were just talking about how we could confirm whether you're really a Fallen Angel or not-" Gabriel started, mouth full with chocolate. Harry rolled his eyes and with a small gesture of his fingers, the food inside the Archangel's mouth vanished. Gabriel rolled his eyes but continued. "It's a pretty painful procedure, but you can probably take it."

"Probably," Harry muttered in a lacklustre tone. Gabriel winked back.

"What do you wanna do?" Dean asked, frowning and sending Harry concerned glances. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Castiel rolling up his sleeve and his eyes widened.

"Wait, wait, wait - you're not gonna stick that hand up my ass are you, Cas?" Harry asked, eyes wide. Castiel froze for a moment but evidently not understanding the joke, slowly shook his head, frowning.

"No, into your soul," He replied, completely serious. Harry now turned incredulously to stare at Gabriel. "Oh, yeah, 'cause that's much better."

Gabriel ignored him, and addressed the group: "Now, Cas has to do it, cause I'm an Archangel and a bit too powerful. I could technically rip your soul apart-"

"Now that ain't a pretty image," Bobby said, tapping his fingers against the wheel of his chair.

"Indeed," Castiel said gravelly, "I am but a foot soldier. My grace is nothing in comparison to Gabriel's. It will be painful, but I will not be able to damage your soul." Then turning to the group, Castiel spoke, "I will require some measure of privacy."

Once everyone had cleared out of the library, and had left Harry alone with Cas (although the former was pretty sure he could see them staring at the proceedings from the hallway) the latter asked Harry to lay down on the sofa.

"I'm afraid this is going to be painful," Castiel said after a moment, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Well, no one's giving me a choice, are they?" Castiel didn't seem to have a reply to that, because he placed his hand on Harry's chest and then… _pushed._ Pain aside, it was one of the weirdest sensations Harry had ever felt. It was as though someone was pressing something very hard and solid into his very being, dislodging his heart completely. And then he felt Castiel _probe_ him. He didn't have another word for it, for that was the nearest word he could find. It felt as though someone was poking at his very essence, his magic, his everything.

He hadn't realised he'd been screaming until Castiel abruptly jerked his arm back and gave Harry room for coherent thought. Instantly, he shut his mouth, realising that his throat was raw and that his chest hurt like hell. And it _hurt_ , like a bitch. Harry awkwardly massaged his bony chest. It was much like trying to scratch an itch that lay under one's skin - only this wasn't an itch, but a bloody painful soul-wound, or whatever it was.

"Oh, maaaan, that bloody well hurt," Harry muttered, arching his back slightly and closing his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain. He suddenly felt two warm fingers tapped him on his forehead and… then warmth spread throughout his body, healing him: suddenly the pain was gone. In fact, the dull pain in his knee was gone too (he'd somehow managed to bruise himself by closing the Impala's door against his knee). Harry's eyes flashed open only to see that Gabriel was leaning over him, giving him a shit-eating grin.

Muttering a quiet thanks, Harry stretched languidly and moved himself into a seating position. He looked up expectantly at Castiel, only to see that the other hunters had also reentered the room. "So, mighty Angel of the Lord, and Angel of Thursday, what's the verdict?"

Castiel looked like he was concentrating very deeply as he unrolled his sleeve and Dean had to snap his fingers in front of him to bring him to Earth. "Dude - come on, wake up." The Angel clenched and unclenched his hand a few times, before gazing down at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face.

"His soul is made of Grace," Castiel finally stated. He didn't offer anymore information, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dean mutter something that closely resembled 'friggin' Angels, man'.

"Meaning what exactly?" Bobby asked, gaze flickering at Harry for a moment. Castiel fixed his unblinking gaze on Harry.

"When an Angel falls, it rips it's Grace out. But Grace always leaves a trace and those little wisps of Grace are then used to create a soul. So if a Human's soul is powered by Grace that means that-" Everyone's eyes had been steadily widening as revelation after revelation was given. Gabriel, however dramatically widened his arms and grinned at Harry.

"Means that," The Archangel said, interrupting Castiel harshly, "You're an Angel! Welcome to the family, little bro!"

"Yes, ehm, welcome," Castiel said uncertainly after a moment, glancing at his brother probably attempting to find out what the proper social protocol was in this situation. Awkwardly, the Angel offered Harry his hand to shake which Harry took, laughing. Dean face-palmed and Sam just stared on, eyes full with confusion. He ignored the 'festives' and pressed on. ***1**

"Wait - so you know what Angel he used to be?" Said the younger Winchester directing the question at Castiel and ignoring Gabriel, who had started conjuring congratulatory cards for parents who had just given birth: cards with babies on the front saying 'you gave birth - congratulations' and 'welcome! - little Harry, to the family'.

Castiel shook his head in answer to the Winchester's question. "I am afraid, not. The Grace is too diluted to make out who Harry originally was. We would have to find the Grace that Harry ripped out of himself and then we would be able to tell. Once Harry takes his Grace back, his Human soul will revert to it's original state."

"Hold on! No one ever said anything about getting this… er… Grace back. What if I don't want to be whatever douchebag Angel I used to be - and how is it possible anyway? I had parents and I have blood related family." Well, yeah, technically, he was related to the Dursleys.

"Well, when an Angel says adios to its mojo, it forms a soul from its leftover grace and throws it into the Human reincarnation cycle. The grace-soul gets a guaranteed Human body," Gabriel replied and put a hand on Harry's shoulder now looking unusually sombre. The congratulatory cards and decorations disappeared and Harry turned his confused eyes on his supposedly older brother. "No one's saying you have to do anything, little bro. At the end of the day, it's your choice. Obviously, you became Human for a reason."

Something broke in Harry at that moment as he stared at his older brother. How many times did he have to find out that he was someone else? First he had been lied to for ten years and then he had found out he was a wizard. Then he had found out he was a _famous_ wizard. And then… he had found out he was simply a pig being prepared for slaughter. And now… now he was some sort of Angel? Freaking identity crisis. "Who the hell am I, Gabe?" He finally asked. Gabriel looked away uncertainly, probably unused to having to comfort his brothers - or anyone for that matter.

"No idea, bro. Our best bet is - as Cas said - find where your Grace is buried."

"How the hell do we find _that_?" Sam asked rushing a hand through his hair.

"Well… Grace in it's pure state reflects the power of creation. It's like a tear drop from God's ocean of creation-juice. So what we would be looking for is something - a place that has been nurtured by the power of pure creation. Understand?"

"So like a tree or a mountain?" Dean asked, frowning slightly.

Gabriel smirked at him. "Look at you! A Winchester finally putting on his thinking cap!" A swimmer's cap actually did appear on Dean's head with a logo that read 'thinking cap' plastered on it. Harry cracked a smile while Dean furiously tried to take it off which only caused his hair to go static when he did manage to toss the cap to the other side of the room.

"Theoretically yes," Castiel murmured in answer to Dean's question. "But we do not know what Angel Harry used to be. A mere foot soldier's Grace could manifest into a large mountain or tree, a seraph's could become an unexplained natural phenomena. An Archangel's-"

"Yeah, well that doesn't matter, Harry's not an Archangel," Gabriel said lowly, eyes flashing. Castiel took a step back and bowed his head in submission making Harry realise how much he really hated hierarchies. "Michael's in Heaven, Raphael is hiding out in Heaven and Lucifer's nothing but a ball of Grace right now. He has to find his vessel first," Gabriel explained and everyone looked at Sam briefly who uncomfortably ducked his head. "There was only ever four of us."

"So we're looking for something like a tree," Bobby said in a flat tone. "I think that'll be a quick search, I mean, ain't like we have hundreds of them on Earth or anything."

"Narrowing down the place of Harry's first birth - first incarnation - could work, like that we'd know where he crash landed when he fell," Gabriel said suddenly, tapping his chin with his forefinger. Everyone looked expectantly at Harry who rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, people? Don't you think I would have mentioned something like that?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Well, you haven't been exactly that forthcoming so far."

"Hey, I told you about the war and me being a wizard!" Harry pointed out. Bobby's hand instantly jumped to his gun and he seemed to try stand up out of instinct. His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke it was in a deep growl: "Come again?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yes, I am a wizard, and no, I have not made any deals with a demon," Harry explained slowly as though he were talking with a small child. "I was born with magic - as were over another three million wizards that currently populate the Earth."

There was a short, stunned silence in the room, until Harry noticed Castiel's wide-eyed expression. "What?" He asked in a deadpan voice. Castiel let out a short breath, folded his hands behind his back and gave Harry a small bow of his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter. I had not realised that you were _the_ Harry Potter," Said the Angel causing Harry to rush a hand through his hair in frustration, suddenly remembering what Gabriel had said when they had first met: ' _we keep track of remarkable people, my family.'_ It made sense now. ***2**

"What the hell?" Dean demanded, once more breaking the silence that had settled between them. Harry glanced at Gabriel pleadingly - why had they agreed to come along again? The Archangel smirked at him and conjured yet another sweet. Harry shot Gabriel an exasperated look and turned to face the Winchesters again.

"I told you about the war earlier on: I was - ehm - am an important chess piece in Wizarding politics. It's a long story so I'll give you the basics: My parent's were murdered by Voldemort (the opposition's leader) and when he turned his wand on me and cast the killing spell, it rebounded and killed him," Harry gestured at his lightning bolt scar. Castiel was now leaning against the desk, arms crossed as he listened to the story. No doubt he already knew it, but he still seemed to listen to it with interest. Gabriel's playful smirk was gone and he sat behind the desk, fidgeting with a skull. "The curse left me with this scar and made me famous. During my fourth year at Hogwarts - I was fourteen at the time - Voldemort came back from the dead using some pretty Dark Magic. That was when the war started. I never finished school 'cause when I turned 17, my two friends and I went after him. I murdered him on the 2nd of May of this year."

"You're only seventeen, bub?" Bobby asked, a little less gruffly. His hold on his gun even relaxed a little bit. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"Technically, if I'm an Angel, then I'm older than you."

"Well!" Gabriel exclaimed, clasping his hands together after he had set the skull back on the place had found it (well, now it was pink and covered in glitter). "That was all cute and dandy, but we have to find Harry's Grace. I have things to do, people to prank, so could we please _get on with it_?"

"We _do_ have to stop the Apocalypse," Castiel murmured, glancing at Dean, eyebrows raised.

"Look, why don't put out some feelers into the hunter's community and see if anyone reports anything weird that resembles that manifestation of Grace?" Sam suggested, putting his hands into his pocket uncertainly. "In the meantime we can focus on finding a way to kill Lucifer."

"Yeah, ok," Dean muttered before turning to Bobby, "Bobby, can you please send-"

"I'm on it, idjit," The man said, rolling his eyes. He wheeled out of the room, presumably into the kitchen. Gabriel stood up (he was now drinking something that smelled like hot-chocolate) and smirked at the Winchesters.

"Well, as I said, I've got places to be, people to prank. I'll swing by in a few days, see if I can find any trace of Harry's Grace," Then turning to Harry, he winked. "Wanna come prank a few assholes?"

Harry glanced at the Winchesters (Castiel had vanished seconds ago after murmuring something about looking for God) and then back at Gabriel. Should he stay? Going with Gabriel would be infinitely more fun - he was sure of that. He didn't really owe the Winchester's anything - or Humanity for that matter. Sighing heavily, he came to his decision: "I'll stick around for a few days; 'till we find the Grace. I wanna know what the hype is about anyway. I want to know whether it's just another magic potion brewed by Getafix." Dean even cracked a smile at the reference.

Gabriel gave him a very un-Gabriel-like smile and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Send me a prayer if you need anything, little brother." With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel was gone. For a moment, the Winchesters and Harry stood awkwardly in the study, not knowing what to say to each other when suddenly, Sam's phone pinged. With one swift motion, he pulled it out of his pocket only to almost drop it in shock when he read the message.

Sam turned to Dean, eyes wide and slightly afraid, "C'mon. Chuck's in trouble."

"I'm not leaving him alone!" Dean exclaimed, aggressively gesturing at Harry who simply raised an eyebrow when Sam also turned to look at him.

"Hey! What do I look like," Called Bobby from the kitchen. "Bacon on toast?" He rolled his wheelchair into Harry's line of sight. He was holding a phone in his hand, apparently currently on hold. Sam and Dean exchanged a hesitant glance. "I'll be here; I can take care of the kid. You go help the 'Prophet of the Lord'," Bobby continued gruffly. Harry rolled his eyes - he wasn't someone who needed to be taken care of!

The Winchesters, however, seemed convinced and disappeared to pack their bags; they left soon after, leaving Harry all alone in the ominous-looking house with a man who hated witches and had a hidden handgun in his wheelchair.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 5 Preview:_**

 _"Any word from our very own Twickster and your Boy-Toy?" Harry asked, smirking._

 _Dean flushed angrily. "Why the hell does everyone keep calling Cas that?!" He exclaimed and then seeing Sam open his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. "Wait, don't answer that."_

 _Chuckling, Sam turned to Harry. "Well, Cas is still searching for God, as far as we know. And Gabriel hasn't shown since last night. I guess he's still trying to track down your Grace."_

 _"I put out a few feelers too; alerted some hunters here and there to look out for freak stuff." Bobby said in his gruff voice, sounding entirely too much like Mad-Eye Moody. However, at least the man's hands weren't twitching in the direction of his gun anymore - that was progress, wasn't it? Harry gave him a shit-eating grin, slightly on the mocking side and patted him on the shoulder in thanks._

 _Dean had raised his fork and had started gesturing it about as though about to prove a point on something, but the words in his mouth died out when Bobby let out a large, startled gasp. He seemed to double over for a moment. "Bobby!" Sam exclaimed and hurriedly walked around the table to catch his upper body before it toppled to the ground._

* * *

 **ANs:**

 **H ahaha, it's just so much fun to write Gabriel, especially when he calls Harry 'little bro'. Anyway, so now they know that HP is an Angel, just not which one. Soooo... now the search for his Grace begins! Any suggestions for what it might manifest as? I've already worked out the general plot for the next chapter... I just need to decide what it manifests as - any suggestions? **

***1:** So this fanfiction obviously takes place during the beginning of season 5 of Supernatural. Cas was still socially awkward at this point.

 ***2:** My thought process was sort of that the Angels know who Harry is in the same way that they know who the prophets are. While they know the prophets cause their names are carved into the angels' eyelids, I thought they'd know who Harry is cause they just know about people who have suffered a lot and have given up a lot for the benefit of a lot of other people

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **reader1:** Thank you! And I will be updating every friday till school starts...

 **nono:** hahaha! I absolutely love that song!

 **Guest:** omg, thank you for your long review! Haha, I absolutely love Gabriel and Harry's brotherly relationship - I just hope that my siblings were more like that with me :/

 **dragon monkey:** thank you so much!

 **Guest 2:** Yes I will - next friday! but thank you!


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello again! So um, I wanted to clear up a few things:**

 **1\. Castiel is not a seraph yet. Obviously, this story takes place at the beginning of season 5. (SPOILERS!) Cas was killed by Lucifer in the season finale and was then put back together by God who then promoted him to a Seraph.**

 **2\. Basically, Lucifer fell once and waged a war against Heaven and was then locked up in the cage. What happened after that and how Harry became a human will be revealed in this chapter.**

 **3\. Luna is not a prophet. I think its cas who once mentioned that there are 'special' people who can perceive Angels of the Lord. My theory is that Luna has some sort of 'sight' that allows her to see imprints of _what used to be or what could be_. That's why she saw Harry's wings (which he technically doesn't have yet) **

**4\. The Deathly Hallows are going to play an important role, as is Death. The reason why Harry saw the other Archangels while holding the Resurrection Stone will be revealed later on in the story.**

 **5\. There will be no pairing.**

 **Also thank you so much for all of the suggestions as to what Harry's grace should be! I got really, really awesome answers! A popular suggestion was the Deathly Hallows, as was Hogwarts and the Northern Lights! Some people actually researched to send me an answer - I am eternally grateful to all of you guys! So anyway, to decide what his Grace should be I wrote down all of your suggestions and my own ideas, dropped them into my panama hat and walked out to the street (omg Ikr? I actually left the house!). Anyway, I asked a person in the park that I was doing a science experiment and that he should draw one of the papers out and give it to me. I repeated the process three times and chose the one I liked best. So yeah, thank you everyone! I hope you like what I make of it!**

 **So anyway, enough chit-chat... I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit longer than the rest (about 7k - making this story officially 30k words already!)...**

* * *

 _The first couple millennia of solitary confinement_ _in the cage weren't all that bad. After all, he'd been God's second son, and even back then, he had disliked Michael and had stayed away from him, resulting in a relatively lonely existence. Only when little Raphael was born, did Lucifer finally take more interest in what a Human might call his 'family'. However, Raphael turned out to be a pompous dick._

 _Finally, their Father created Gabriel. Said Angel had brought a new light to Lucifer'slife_ _. While Michael had taken more interest in Raphael and had taught him to fly and to utilise his Grace,_ _Lucifer had decided to do the same for Gabriel._ _Only flying andstudying_ _and such things were_ boring, _Lucifer had quickly learned that teaching little Gabriel tricks and pranks was much, much more fun than anything else._

 _And so, he and little Gabriel flew through Heaven in their celestial glory, setting up ambushes and pranks for the unsuspecting Raphael and Michael to walk into. Their Father remained neutral when a small prank war started between his sons, choosing instead to observe their natural evolution. And they spent several millennia like this; pranking each other, occasionally having fights, and sometimes flying together. Soon, however, their Father started creating more and more Angels, until Heaven was populated with just over a thousand Angels, Archangels being the oldest and most powerful of them all._

 _Lucifer sat by his Father's warm presence as he created and created and created. He watched as Angel after Angel was gently siphoned off of his Father's own Grace and melded into the perfect warrior of Heaven. Michael was all to often busy with teaching and instructing the newly born Angels and Raphael was more often than not, tagging along like a lost puppy. Gabriel spent most of his time exploring Heaven or telling the new Angel's stories about the legendary prank wars the Archangels had had before their time. Gabriel was too intimidated by their Father to be around him for long periods of time anyway._

 _And so it was, that Lucifer sat by his Father's side as He created the Seraphs, the Angels, the Cherubs, and then at Death's behest, also the Reapers. Amara, the Darkness, sometimes sat at His side, nose upturned as She watched Her Brother creating. Lucifer knew She disliked the Angels and he watched with unease as time went on and Her resentment only grew._

 _Lucifer remembered the tension in Heaven quite well. He remembered that oppressive silence after his Father and Amara had fought. He remembered how all of Heaven sat frozen, proverbially holding its breath; no Angel wished to be the first to break the complete paralysis of Heaven._

 _Soon, after that, His Father started creating something new. Something without wings or even tails. This something new was odd, and weak and terribly fragile. When he questioned his Father, His warm presence flooded Lucifer's senses in the equivalent of a kind smile and said that he had big plans for these new creatures. He was going to call them Humans. Unease started growing within Lucifer as Amara's jealousy reached a new level._

 _The fights between his Father and Amara became more frequent and almost excruciating to watch or even feel. Their arguments rocked Heaven's very core and caused dirty, black clouds to cover the 'Earth', their Father's favourite planet in the Universe He had created. Most of the younger Angels attempted to cover their ears and block out the fights, but it was futile. Lucifer remembered quite clearly how after that, he and the other Archangels were called to their Father and they all reconvened in one room for the first time since their creation._

 _Here was the moment that the plan was hatched; Amara would have to be imprisoned inside a physical Mark which Lucifer, the most beloved and most beautiful of the Archangels would have to bear. Lucifer took this task with complete seriousness, his disposition was for once solemn. So when Amara was imprisoned, the Mark manifested itself onto one of his wings, forever desecrating it._

 _Lucifer watched on, as the first Humans walked the Earth. His wicked nature, which he hadn't known at the time was only intensified by the mark, manifested itself as he manipulated Gadreel, the Angel who guarded Paradise, to let him through and take on the form of a serpent, and thus, like with Pandora's box, evil was let out into the world._

 _God, as he was known by the Humans, forgave him with time. But when He, in all of His celestial glory, called the Angels to Him and demanded them to bow down to Humanity and love them more than they loved their Father, Lucifer refused. He knew that the Mark had started to influence him, but its power was stronger than his will and he let jealousy confound his senses. His pride was wounded, for he had been commanded to bow down to what he saw as a broken, flawed and murderous species. He attempted to prove this to Michael by showing how easily Human's could be tempted to murder and passed the Mark on._ _Of course, Cain being the martyr type instantly volunteered to take the Mark for his brother causing him to go all dipshit crazy and kill his brother, Abel._

 _The proverbial green monster that grew and festered within him convinced him that the Humans were not worthy of his or his Father's love and he commenced a rebellion. Early in the rebellion, he called his brother Michael, the one he had originally disliked but trusted and had tried to convince him to join his cause. But Michael's blind trust in their Father and unwillingness to disobey their Father, put him on the other side of the battlefield. And after the war had been waged for several eons and had even somehow been spilled onto Earth, Lucifer was betrayed by Gabriel, his most trusted brother._

 _Lucifer remembered those last few moments in Heaven very well. He remembered his Father's disappointment, and remembered bowing down before Him, pleading for forgiveness. But instead of being met with a warm embrace, Lucifer collided with a wall of ice and… regret. And then, he was thrust into the cage, down in the pitt the Humans had started to refer to as Hell._

 _The cage wasn't that terrible during the first few millennia. He was used to loneliness and boredom; he was even used to talking to himself. But as time dragged on, and the Lucifer's past atrocities finally caught up with him, regret and remorse finally blossomed in his chest. With the Mark now gone and with Cain now baring it, Lucifer was able to think clearly for the first time in several eons. And he wept and cried and cursed his Father for all that He had done to him. His Father had put too much faith in Lucifer, he had trusted and loved too much. And the Archangel, had in turn, loved his father too much to love the Humans._

 _As time went on, the heat in Hell grew and intensified. From his little, dark pit in a hidden corner in Hell, Lucifer started hearing whispers of the Knights of Hell, and of evil Human souls which had mutated into Demons, and he understood suddenly, that this was his making. He had created those Demons all those years ago, by convincing Gadreel to let him, the Serpent, into the Garden of Eden. And he wept and cried and cursed himself. He banged on the cell bars, pleading for forgiveness and hating himself for what he had allowed himself to become. What his Father had allowed him to become._

 _He wasn't sure how much time he had spent in the cage - time moved differently in Hell - but now as he sat, curled up in a corner of the cage, staring into the glaring darkness, feeling empty and cold, and hot at the same time, Lucifer suddenly_ felt _it again._

 _That 'it', was something that he hadn't felt for eons. Hadn't experienced since his Fall from Grace. That warmth and forgiveness and complete and unconditional love. And he knew, he just knew his Father had recognised his remorse._

 _"Father," Lucifer whispered brokenly from his corner of the cell. When nothing happened, Lucifer's heavy heart only fell further - had that all been an illusion? But then, that warmth enveloped him and he felt himself give into that feeling that he hadn't realised he had craved and missed so much._

 _"My son, Lucifer, the_ _Lightbringer_ ** _._** _" His Father's voice reverberated through the Cage and possibly also Hell. It ricocheted from ever wall and ever cell bar and filled Lucifer with awe and love._

 _"Father, oh, Father," Lucifer murmured, bowing his head. "I realise now, I was a fool. The mark-" Lucifer started brokenly, as he stared down at the floor of the cage, watching as wisps of golden Grace that was his father wove between the bars. "Forgive me, Father."_

 _The silence stretched on for a long time, and Lucifer wasn't quite sure how long. He sat there, staring brokenly at the floor of the cage, while his Father's presence simply sat there, seemingly analysing His son. And when Lucifer suddenly started sobbing, he felt his Father manifest into a Human body and envelop him in a hug. Lucifer hugged him tight for a long time, letting out all of his remorse and love, laying the proverbial cards on the table. His Father comforted him, loving him as he had back when Lucifer's name was a revered word in Heaven, not a hated one._

 _"I forgive you, son," His Father said. For a halting moment, Lucifer thought that his ears were deceiving him, until he realised that in such a place as this, physical manifestations meant nothing. "I have felt your remorse, Lucifer. Your regret is sincere."_

 _"Father," Lucifer murmured haltingly, as he looked up into the eyes of the man that his Father had chosen to take the form of. "May I return to Heaven? To your ranks - and prove my love for Humans?"_

 _His father smiled, and his light eyes twinkled, "Ah, but my son, you do not love them just yet." Lucifer's posture dropped and his shoulders lost their tension and fell forwards in defeat as the last flame of hope in his chest flickered out of of existence. He had of course known that his Father had damned him to the Cage for all eternity, but he had hoped, that maybe, just maybe, he would one day catch one last glimpse of Heaven._

 _"To love them, you must become one," His Father continued. Lucifer's expression shifted into that of confusion and he stared up at his father with bemusement._

 _"Father, I do not understand," He murmured after a moment. His Father's expression softened and he placed a warm hand on Lucifer's shoulder._

 _"Do you truly wish to redeem yourself, son?"_

 _Lucifer's eyes widened in shock as he hurriedly started nodding. Was this real? Was his Father really about to give him a second chance. "Yes, Father, I will do anything!"_

 _"Then you shall become a Human," His Father murmured softly. "When your soul has completed many Human lives, and when I deem you ready, you shall be born as one Harry Potter and you shall live his life with valour and love. If, as Fate has it, you are ready then; you shall reclaim your Grace and ascend to your former celestial holiness."_

 _A lonely tear rolled down Lucifer's cheek as he nodded in acceptance. His Father had forgiven him! He had even given him a second chance at life - at being an Angel! The words 'thank you' were only just bubbling up to his mouth to form themselves, when he saw the understanding look in his Father's eyes and he understood that He already knew. And-_

Harry gasped loudly as he jerked up in bed. His sudden motion caused him to briefly loose his balance and topple over the side of the cot he'd been given. Groaning on the floor, Harry rolled onto his back. Gently, he flexed and moved his different body parts, attempting to figure out whether he was alright or not. His side hurt and he winced, that would probably bruise. Gingerly, he pulled himself to his feet, groaning slightly as his knee gave away slightly. Lucifer had been right, Humans were so frag-

Harry's eyes widened instantly and his legs buckled under him. He fell onto the bed in shock. Lucifer! That had most definitely not been a simple dream or nightmare - Harry had had enough visions from Voldemort, and had experienced quite a few memories in basins not to know that that had been something more. Everything around him in that… vision, had been to vivid, too bright and too realistic for it to have been a dream. The Wizard took a steadying breath as he felt panic start to grow into a tense knot in the pit of his stomach. Harry started to fidget with his hands as his mind started to wander back to the vision he had experienced. That had been Lucifer… his perspective on everything.

Back in fifth year when Voldemort had been plaguing him with numerous visions, one after another, Harry had inter alia, seen a particular live action vision from Nagini's viewpoint while she had attempted to slaughter Mr. Weasley. But this was not the same. He hadn't seen those memories through someone, no one had been channelling themselves through a scar or through an animal. Those were god-honest personal memories.

Harry gulped suddenly, realising very abruptly what it all meant. Last night's discussion with Gabriel and Castiel, and the latter Angel's intruding soul-probe had confirmed that he was one of them. However, what that soul-probe _hadn't_ revealed was the name of the Angel which Harry had once been. But Harry knew it now, it was undeniable. He was the Serpent himself.

"I'm Lucifer," Harry whispered to himself, staring at the old, worn floorboard under his feet. Those words seemed to reverberate around the entire room, making them louder than they should have been. Harry attempted to wet his chapped lips, but his mouth was too dry. Finally, Harry gently raised his hands to his face and rubbed at it. But if he was Lucifer, how come he couldn't remember anything? Why had he only managed to see snippets of what Lucifer had once experienced?

"I am the Devil," Harry grumbled to himself again as he tried to rub the morning-blurriness out of his eyes. Groaning, Harry shrugged out of his pyjamas and methodically dressed himself, arms and hands moving without his real consent; almost as though on autopilot - his mind was elsewhere. "Why the hell does this kinda shit always have to happen to me?" Harry murmured as he set his round glasses on his nose. They weren't in a particularly good condition, nor were they perfect for his prescription, but he was a sucker for sentimentality.

Well, at least that explained his back pain; Gabriel had mentioned that Angels had wings, right? It also explained his sudden boost in power. Somehow, Voldemort's Killing Curse must have triggered something in him, causing his magic to Hulk out. It also explained why Gabriel had found such an interest in him when they had first met, and why their sense of kinship was so strong… If Harry was Gabriel's elder brother, well… that explained a lot.

Well, then… He was most definitely going to keep this a secret from the Winchesters; seeing as they wanted to kill him. He was just going to have to act as normal as he could and pretend that nothing had happened. Talking about the Winchesters…

Harry followed the sounds and smells of a family gathering for a loud and rambunctious breakfast and he smiled briefly as he remembered the Weasley family meals. He stood briefly at the doorway to the kitchen, examining the way that Bobby familiarly dumped a pile of pancakes onto Dean's plate, while Sam stared on, grossed out, presumably by the copious amount of grease and fat. As for the brothers; they bickered like brothers did, secretly smiling away every time one of them delivered a particularly sassy or smart-ass comment.

Feeling as though he were intruding on some tender and intimate family reunion, Harry hung back at the door until Sam spotted him and waved him over. Sighing, Harry slumped into the fourth chair and mumbled a short 'thank you' when Bobby set a plate with pancakes soaked in sirup in front of him. "Why the long face?" Asked the younger Winchester brother, munching on his own _healthy_ oatmeal breakfast.

If there was one thing that Harry had learned from Gabriel it had to be that one had to enjoy the simple things in life, such as extremely over-sweetened food with so many calories that it could fill up the calorie quota for three grown men.

"Eh, I had a bad dream. Nothing to worry about," Harry mumbled into his tea, which he easily conjured. Hermione would throw a fit though because according to Gamp's third law, which stated that conjuring food was an impossibility, Harry shouldn't have been able to do something like that. _Perks of being Lucifer_ , Harry thought as he snorted cynically into his tea. Dean exchanged a concerned glance with Bobby - evidently they had both forgotten about him being a 'witch'.

"Want to talk about it?" Sam murmured, giving him his best concerned puppy-look. Dean made a gagging sound and he and Bobby exchanged a long-suffering look. Harry smirked as he looked up at Sam through his bed hair.

"Do I look like a bleeding girl staying over for a sleepover?" He said a touch mockingly. Hm, maybe Gabriel was starting to rub off of him. Sam blushed lightly and turned his full attention back to his oatmeal. Rolling his eyes, Harry turned to Dean.

"What's the deal with the dog, anyway?" Dean asked after a moment, glancing at the floor. Harry frowned - dog? What dog? Following Dean's line of sight, he found himself staring at a small… dog, that looked a little like a corgi. ***1**

"So witches own dogs now, eh?" Bobby growled from his place at the table. Harry briefly shot him a glare. When was he going to learn that the proper term was 'wizard'? But instead of shooting back a biting remark, he picked the little corgi up. The dog instantly started licking his face and wagging his tail.

"He's definitely not mine," Harry said after a moment, patting the dogs head as it settled down into his lap.

"Check the tag - maybe it wandered up the road or something," Sam suggested after a moment, leaning over the table to catch a better look at the canine. Harry did so and after a moment of staring at the tag, started laughing.

"Ok, this is definitely Gabriel's dog!" Harry exclaimed, and still chuckling continued patting the dogs soft fur. "Says here he's called _K-9_ and _if lost - please return to Loki_ ," Harry continued, now finally sobering up. It warmed Harry's heart slightly as he realised that Gabriel had probably left K-9 with Harry so as to make sure that the Wizard was ok. ***2**

Dean rolled his eyes, "Why does he even need a dog?"

"He ain't staying here, that's for sure," Bobby murmured gruffly, giving the dog his worst glare. K-9 ignored it and instead attempted to lick Bobby's hand. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry continued patting the dog.

"I take it, Gabriel won't be staying here long, K-9 will be outta your hair in no time." Then turning to the Winchesters, Harry asked, "So, how did it go with, eh, Chuck was it?"

Dean's glare said everything. Sam, however shot his brother an amused glance and then addressed Bobby and Harry, "Well, we have a new lead on the Colt."

" _The_ Colt?" Bobby exclaimed, eyebrows skyrocketing, while Dean hit his brother with his elbow, wordlessly telling him to 'shut up. Now. I don't trust the witch'.

"I guess I'm missing something here," Harry said slowly, frown deepening.

"Well, there's this gun, made by Samuel Colt," Dean said carefully. His eyes were narrowed in distrust. "It's supposed to be able to kill anything. We're planning on walking up to Lucifer's ass and emptying the gun in his face." Dean made an ugly face, which Harry could only interpret as bloodthirstiness and he shifted uneasily in his seat. Ok, he was definitely not going to tell them that he was supposedly Lucifer. "Hey you gonna finish eating those?" Dean asked after a moment, gesturing at Harry's uneaten stack of pancakes with his fork. Harry shrugged and waved his hand carelessly; the plate instantly floated over to Dean.

Everyone turned to stare at him, eyes narrowed. Harry even saw Bobby's shoulders tense more than normal. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. "Look, I'm not staying around for long. If you want I can help you find this Colt," Pfff, like hell he was going to leave it in their possession - not if it could kill him, "And you guys can help me find my, ehm, Grace, and then we can all go our jolly ways. Bottom line is, you don't have to accept my magic and honestly, I don't care a shit, I've had enough prejudice for several lifetimes." Then nodding over at Dean, he shot him a smirk, "Any word from our very own Twickster and your Boy-Toy?"

Dean flushed angrily. "Why the hell does everyone keep calling Cas that?!" He exclaimed and then seeing Sam open his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. "Wait, don't answer that."

Chuckling, Sam turned to Harry. "Well, Cas is still searching for God, as far as we know. And Gabriel hasn't shown since last night. I guess he's still trying to track down your Grace."

"I put out a few feelers too; alerted some hunters here and there to keep a look out for freak stuff." Bobby said in his gruff voice, sounding entirely too much like Mad-Eye Moody. However, at least the man's hands weren't twitching in the direction of his gun anymore - that was progress, wasn't it? Harry gave him a shit-eating grin, slightly on the mocking side and patted him on the shoulder in thanks.

Dean had raised his fork and had started gesturing it about like a conductor's baton as though about to prove a point on something, but the words died in his mouth, when Bobby let out a large, startled gasp. He seemed to double over for a moment. "Bobby!" Sam exclaimed and hurriedly walked around the table to catch his upper body before it toppled to the ground.

Bobby had, however by then straightened himself and was already waving a hovering Sam off. Dean had also stood up and was uncertainly blinking at Bobby. "What the hell was that?" The elder Winchester said gruffly, then turning to Harry he almost growled out: "What the hell did you do?"

Harry himself stared on, uncertain what to do or say. He had jerked his hand back and was alternating between staring at it and staring at Bobby. For once, he wasn't completely in control of the situation and it unnerved him slightly. He was saved from answering, as Bobby very suddenly grabbed his right knee, eyes widening with shock… and was that awe? "Sonovabitch," Bobby murmured quietly as he poked his knee.

"What is it? Bobby! What is it?" Dean said urgently, grabbing the older man's shoulders and shaking him none too gently. Said man ignored him for a moment and then they all watched, amazed, as Bobby rolled his wheelchair back so that his legs were visible… and then he moved them off the wheelchair footplate. And then he stood up.

For a moment, Bobby wobbled on his feet uncertainly, but when Sam moved to support him before he fell, Bobby quickly pushed him away, choosing instead to take a few experimental steps to thestove. No one said anything until Bobby, apparently already exhausted, stumbled backwards and toppled into his wheelchair again. He didn't put his feet on the footplate, Harry noticed. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Wait, what the hell just happened?" Dean spoke up again, staring from Harry to Bobby and then back to Harry who shrugged, but felt almost as shocked and as amazed as the Winchesters looked.

"I think… Harry just healed Bobby's spinal cord," Sam said uncertainly. Dean blinked at all of them for a moment, before turning to Harry.

"Wait, so you dropped a 'Parlyz Heal' on him (Dean gestured at Bobby who was staring at his legs with reverence), and everything's vanilla?" ***3**

Sam shot Dean a grade-a bitchface, as though to say 'seriously?'. Dean frowned for a moment, "Dude, it's Pokemon. Gotta love it, man." Sam rolled his eyes and let out a long, exasperated breath.

"What I wanna know, bub, is how the hell you did what you did," Bobby finally spoke up, swivelling in his chair to stare at Harry, eyes narrowed in thought. Harry scratched the back of his neck uncertainly.

"Mate, I have no idea; my magic's been wonky since-" Well, since he'd died and come back only to kill ol' Voldy, but they didn't need to know that particular fact. Could Angels die from a Killing Curse? Was that why he had survived all those years ago? Well, then again, he wasn't really an Angel yet; according to Gabriel and Castiel, he still needed his Grace to become one… Not that Harry was planning to retake it. Taking it and stuffing it into a small little bottle in his vault at Gringotts was pretty much all he intended to do. He didn't want to turn into the Devil, thank you very much.

"Well, fact is, it's been a little wonky - a bit super-powered if you will. I've always had to use a wand to channel magic, actually all wizards use one. I guess it's the Grace inside of me - the one that makes up my soul - that's acting up or something."

"When did it start, eh, acting up?" Sam asked, taking a step forwards, eyebrows draw together in deep concentration.

"About a month ago, I guess. 2nd of May," Harry said after a moment. Sam and Dean exchanged a deep, meaningful glance and Harry suddenly felt like he was missing something. Bobby apparently understood whatever Sam and Dean had 'discussed' over one single glance because his sharp stare now took on a slightly more suspicious edge. "Why - why is that significant?"

"That's the day the cage was bust open," Dean said gruffly. Harry reached under his collar and tried to loosen it a little; he could already feel the heat rising up to his face.

"Somehow that must have triggered your residual Grace to act up," Bobby said finally, eyes narrowed as he examined every inch of Harry's face. Said wizard relaxed slightly. Ok, ok, so they thought that Lucifer had triggered _his_ Grace and not that he _was_ Lucifer.

"Look I'm tired. Actually, I feel like shit. That must have taken out more from me than I thought it would have." Grabbing a piece of leftover toast, Harry gestured vaguely to the study, particularly to the worn sofa. "I'll be napping if anyone needs me."

K-9 gave an unamused whine at being set on the floor, but followed Harry to the sofa nonetheless.

.

He wasn't sure how long he'd known about Harry; how long he'd suspected. Maybe it had been from the moment he'd seen him in that park doing that magic trick. Or maybe it had been when he and Harry had spent the night bowling and philandering. Maybe it was how familiar Harry felt, or maybe even how similar his soul had felt to… _Lucifer's_ Grace.

Fact was, he had found it. Harry's Grace.

If he were Human, Gabriel would have said that the Canyon looked majestic; that it was one of the seven Natural World Wonders. And it was beautiful, there was no doubt in that, but what Gabriel, an Archangel, saw, was severely different to what a Human could and would see. The eyes of a Human could only perceive the physical: they would see a large river valley, the result of all the erosion that exposed the forty major sedimentary rock layers.

The Grand Canyon's visually overwhelming size and intricate and colourful landscape were, however only briefly registered by Gabriel. His eyes were set upon the beautiful tendrils of light that permeated the very air; they were like tiny wisps of sentient golden-blue smoke which gently entwined themselves around rocks, flora and fauna and seemingly enveloped Gabriel in a warm hug - a greeting.

Gabriel gasped quietly as his eyes took in the majesty of it all. Somehow, after all of these millions of years, Lucifer's Grace had been let out, undamaged, from the cage and had attached itself to the Canyon. Gabriel, however, only belatedly realised why: when Lucifer had fallen from Grace - from Heaven - he had landed, quite physically, on Earth. His landing had caused the Grand Canyon and upon it's release from the Cage, the Grace had wandered back to the only place it knew on Earth.

It was odd thinking of Harry as Lucifer. While the former had retained much of Lucifer's personality, he was still more carefree and forgiving. He didn't seem to hold large grudges against anyone and from what Gabriel knew about the _famous_ Harry Potter, he was also brave and chivalrous; the very opposite of what Lucifer had been. The Archangel had been prideful, stubborn and slippery like a snake. It was in fact, not incorrect when the Bible named him the 'serpent'.

As newly born Angels, he and Lucifer had spent a lot of time together. Michael had been originally tasked with teaching and raising Raphael and Lucifer's own charge had been Gabriel. Hell, he had even taught him, the youngest of the Archangels, to fly. He had been the one to teach Gabriel how to use his Grace for more nefarious means - to prank and to use it like magic. Gabriel had always idolised and loved his older brother, much like Sam did Dean, but when Lucifer had rebelled and had asked Gabriel to take his side, he had refused.

Turning his attention back to the Canyon, he sighed deeply. Gabriel could almost taste the desolation in the air; that tiny feeling of betrayal. Slowly, Gabriel extended his hand to reach out to one of the tendrils. His fingers unfurled and his fingertips stretched out. One wandering tendril of light curled itself around Gabriel's finger, twinkling fondly in recognition.

"Beautiful, ain't it?"

Gabriel jerked in surprise and dropped his hand to his side when a relatively chubby woman aligned herself next to Gabriel at the edge of the Canyon wall. Gabriel briefly shot her a suspicious look; she didn't have a terribly flayed face and glowing black or red eyes, she didn't have large wings and a halo either. So not a Demon or Angel; just a regular Human tourist. She was referring to the landscape then, and not the tendrils of Grace. He almost sneered, instead he nodded absently. The woman gave him a large, toothy smile and Gabriel spotted some of her bright pink lipstick smeared on her teeth.

"I finally convinced my husband to drive up to Arizona. Gotta see summat before ya die, eh?" She had a strong Yorkshire accent and Gabriel had a bit of trouble understanding her, but he nodded anyway. Somewhere in the distance, Gabriel could hear a Jehovah's Witness advertising free bibles.

"Yer the quiet type, ain't ya?" Gabriel didn't reply, he stared on, pretending that he hadn't heard the question, little did she know that he was quite the opposite of 'the quiet type'. Finally, the woman rolled her eyes and moved away to another, even more rounded man - presumably her husband.

"And what is a pagan god like you doing in a place like this?"

Gabriel felt Zachariah sooner than he saw or heard him. His presence wasn't that intimidating - if it came to a fight, whether it'd be Angelic or Human, Gabriel would still easily wipe the floor with him. However, Zachariah had always been Michael's dirty little secret; his secret little bitch. Ol' Zachy did all of the dirty work that Michael thought he was too dirty for. Zachariah was probably here to do just that - kill the 'pagan god' before he ran off to tell his fellow pagans about the stray Grace lying about the US.

Gabriel turned around slowly, trying to drag out his response time. Quickly he catalogued the amount of people wandering around this area of the Canyon - about thirty or so. If it came down to the fight, they would have to flee quickly. Zachariah's physical form was smirking but Gabriel saw beyond that and into his true form. He reeked of pettiness and maliciousness; his wings were dark with greed and hatred. Said Angel had always been a douchebag, but he had never been in such a bad place as he was now.

"Oh you know, sightseeing," Gabriel said with a playful smirk of his own as he hurriedly stuffed his own Grace deeper into his pagan magic. Zachariah didn't need to know who he was just yet. He was already helping the Hardy Boys a little bit, the Angels would know soon enough. "How'd you know I was here anyway? I didn't detect any wards or anything." Zachariah's eyes wandered over to the Jehovah's Witness that Gabriel had noticed earlier on. Ah, Heaven had it's own personal spies crawling all over Earth.

Gabriel smirked; smart. And so very like Michael.

Zachariah's smirk slipped off his face as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his Angel blade, evidently done with all chit-chat. Gabriel rolled his eyes; that tiny little thing wouldn't be able to even scratch him! He pretended to look scared though, as a pagan god would.

"Are you here for it?" Zachariah said, taking a step forwards. The sun glinted off the blade, momentarily blinding Gabriel. He pretended to look confused as he backed away to the very edge of the Canyon ridge.

"Here for what, douchebag?" Gabriel replied snidely. Zachariah's expression darkened and his predatory stare became more intense.

"Treat me with some respect, boy! You know what I mean - the Grace."

Gabriel briefly cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised: so Michael had sent this clown to protect the Grace from other interested parties? What was Michael doing? Why hand't he just secreted the Grace away?

Zachariah was merely centimetres away from Gabriel now, his little toothpick of a sword was getting closer and was pointed up at the Archangel's chin. The other Angel came up close, staring down at Gabriel, eyes narrowed and hateful. "I hate you, pagans. The lot of you. You are ignorant, arrogant and think you're all-powerful," He all but snarled. Gabriel smirked again.

"Aw, I guess you're not gonna answer that friend request I sent you on Facebook?" His smirk was cocky, and the faint fear that he had forced onto his face moments ago was gone. Instead, he stared up at Zachariah with defiance. Well, maybe just for the sake of drama and maybe a little bit of chaos and anarchy, he would have to reveal himself a little earlier than planned. Confusion flashed briefly through the Angel's eyes as he examined Gabriel's swift change in character.

Then as fast as a snake, Zachariah grabbed hold of Gabriel's jacket and firmly jabbed the Angel sword into his neck. The malevolent Angel dragged the sword down his neck, causing Gabriel's skin to rip open like a zipper, but then heal over only seconds later. Gabriel winked at Zachariah when the latter's countenance formed into that of surprise and maybe a teensy bit of fear.

Grinning widely, Gabriel reached into his own jacked pocket and drew out his Archangel's blade; a more elaborately decorated golden blade which glowed with imbued Grace. He raised it up a little to bring it into Zachariah's line of sight. He watched with a tiny bit of sadistic pleasure as Zachariah's expression morphed from hateful and shocked to horrified in a few seconds flat.

"I think, little brother," Gabriel murmured quietly as his three pairs of ginormous golden white wings unfurled behind him, stretching out several metres to either side. He let go of his strong hold over his Grace and it stretched out, filling the immediate area with his intimidating, Angelic presence. Gabriel gestured at his sword. "You'll find that mine is bigger than yours."

Zachariah seemed a little to scared and shocked to appreciate a good dick joke because he stumbled backwards and almost fell to his knees. For all intents and purposes, Gabriel's smaller physical frame now seemed to tower over Zachariah's own. "You!" Zachariah exclaimed, apparently lost for words. "But you're dead! They told us you were dead!"

Gabriel raised an interested eyebrow. The Angel's would have felt it if one of the Archangels died. They would have known… so who had convinced the Angel's that he was dead. His single, raised eyebrow seemed to be enough to prompt an answer from Zachariah because he respectfully, and a bit fearfully bowed his head. "The Archangels - Michael and Raphael told us that you w-were gone. That you had died."

Ah, so Michael and Raphael were running Heaven now. Well, it wasn't such a leap, and Gabriel had suspected it anyway. But telling the lesser Angels lies and militarising them? That wasn't what their Father had wanted the Host of Heaven to be like.

"And what of this," Gabriel finally demanded, gesturing at the Canyon. "Why are you protecting Lucifer's Grace rather than hiding it away? Are you _hoping_ that he finds his vessel?"

Zachariah visibly gulped and his previously extended wings now drooped 'till the tips were touching the floor - a clear show of submission. His physical body also bowed it's head. "I don't know much. Michael just gives me orders."

"And what is your mission now?" Gabriel asked, voice dangerously low. He didn't like where this was headed. Zachariah bit his lip uncertainly, evidently caught between betraying his loyalty to Michael and Raphael and not getting smitten for his efforts. Gabriel flared his Grace in a show of dominance and impatience. He really hated pulling rank like this, but after all, this _was_ a scumbag.

"Michael has commanded me to convince the Righteous Man-"

"Dean Winchester?" Gabriel asked, genuinely surprised. Zachariah nodded hurriedly and continued as though he'd never been interrupted.

"-To accept him as his vessel and to protect Lucifer's Grace until the time is right for Lucifer to regain his celestial power." Gabriel couldn't hide his shock this time and he reared back as though he'd just been physically hit by someone. Michael was doing _what?_ He felt his rage building up and with a short, swift wave of his hand, he jerked Zachariah back to Heaven. His bindings would keep the Angel there for a few weeks at least.

Gabriel was just about to fly back to Bobby's and deliver the bad news of Michael's plans (and probably also of Harry's identity), when he felt _something else_ flood his senses and he hesitated, for it felt familiar. For a moment, Gabriel just stood there, frozen. Then, as that presence solidified itself into something more physical, he turned to face the newcomer.

Michael's oppressive power weighed upon Gabriel - he was after all, the eldest brother and the most powerful of all of the Angels - but it was a complete juxtaposition to his vessel's appearance. The young man he wore was light-haired and had a fairly wiry, weak frame. He had blue eyes devoid of life, as was the case with all of the vessels that Michael ever possessed. He didn't know, or maybe wasn't ever interested in using Human facial expressions and mannerisms.

Michael's voice was mechanic and inhumane when his lips started moving and forming words: "Gabriel," he uttered slowly as though testing out a Human voice for the first time in a long time.. Said Archangel slowly raised his eyes to gaze at him and with a nod of his own, acknowledged his much hated older brother.

"Michael," He greeted almost as emotionlessly. The elder Archangel took a step forwards and he actually, really smiled. Only the smile was cold and unforgiving as was his voice when he spoke:

"We have much to discuss, little brother."

* * *

 **Preview Chapter 6:**

 _"I see you got K-9, then. I sent him here to watch over you, y'know, seeing as I thought you were my little brother." Gabriel seemed to realise that he'd said it in the past tense only after he'd said it, and he froze. Then slowly, he set K-9 down and turned to look at Harry. Said Wizard swallowed uncomfortably._

 _"So, you know," Harry murmured after a moment, turning his gaze to his interlocked hands. Gabriel sighed deeply and nodded once. Harry could feel his probing stare._

 _"You're Lucifer." Hearing those words coming out from someone else's mouth was even worse than acknowledging them himself. Nevertheless, Harry nodded once. The sudden silence that enveloped them was deafening and it made Harry want to run off so that he didn't have to bear it._

 _"I-I-I didn't know," Harry stuttered out slowly, breaking the silence. "Until I woke up this morning, that is. I just remember Lucifer in the cage praying to God to forgive him. I swear, right now I'm just Harry. Hell, I don't even want to be Lucifer. I just want to put his Grace in a bottle and lock him up for ever."_

* * *

 **So, longish chapter. 7k words. Hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. XD**

 **oh, and on a side-note, I made a small little poll on my profile where you can decide what your favourite fanfiction of mine is... XD *shrug* I just want some feedback XD**

 **ANs:**

 ***1: So K-9 being a corgi is a reference to the many, many tumblr posts tagged to Gabriel and Richard Speight Jr where he's depicted as a corgi. But, tbh, he DOES look a lot like a corgi**

 ***2: hahah I particularly love this reference and hopefully, some of my fellow Doctor Who fans will spot it too. The Doctor once travelled with a metal dog called K-9. If you don't know him, google him... cause tbh, he's adorable**

 ***3: Parlyz Heal is a medicine pocket item you can carry around with you in the pokemon nintendo games. I was obsessed with pokemon as a kid (not just pokemon go); like seriously obsessed.**

 **Anonymous Reviews:**

 **Mim:** Oh haha, most of my chapters are ca. 3k words long, like that I can update every week. I wouldn't be able to write 15k chapters... I just wouldn't have the motivation... Ohhhh well... I am starting school in about two and a half weeks, and I'm starting year 13 (senior year) so that'll be quite stressful. I'll try and update as best I can, but it depends on what my time-table looks like. I have school on saturdays too, so I might have to move the update day to Sat/Sun. Wow! Thank you for all of your suggestions - and for taking time to research! That helped a lot!

 **akuma:** Thanks for the suggestion! And for reading!

 **Guest: Hahaha,** i guess, the Winchesters do have a problem with pride and arrogance XD.

 **Piss Dragon:** huh. interesting name XD Ehm.. Yeah, my chapters are pretty short, but like that I can update almost every week. XD

 **blades:** hahahah I love your suggestion! And omg, I love the pizza idea! I'll probably even write it in! Thank you!

 **Guest 2:** Also... thank you so much for your ideas! I love them all! And omg! You were the only person who guessed the reason right for Bobby's sudden lack of control!

 **Qwerty:** Hahah thank you! haaha well.. the reveal will come next chapter! I'm looking forward to writing it - I just started typing up the new chapter and about a fourth of it is finished... urgh, I'm falling behind... XD


	7. Chapter 6

**Hhaha, ok, I'm surprised a lot of you are still reading this story... like... why?**

* * *

 ** _Then:_**

 _"_ _Michael," Gabriel greeted almost as emotionlessly. The elder Archangel took a step forwards and he actually, really smiled. Only the smile was cold and unforgiving as was his voice as he spoke:_

 _"_ _We have much to discuss, little brother."_

 ** _Now:_**

Gabriel suddenly felt very anxious.

Back when he had been little fledging and they had all still been a proud and good family, he had loved Michael. Because even for all of Michael's faults, he had been good elder brother. Although he had always been a little lacking in humour, he had still tolerated Gabriel's early attempts to prank him. But now… this Michael was a changed person. Ever since Lucifer's fall and his incarceration, Gabriel had watched as his brothers hardened and became Heaven's mightiest _weapons_. This had been one of the reasons why Gabriel had left Heaven.

That was why uncertainty rose in him as he stared at his eldest brother with anxiousness. He wasn't talking to _his_ brother anymore. This was some sort of foreign entity that passively wished him harm. "Oh you mean the new pringles flavour?" Gabriel said flippantly, using his cocky Trickster mask to hide away his true emotions. "'Cause I hear that it's pretty crap." ***1**

Michael's expression didn't change, but Gabriel thought he might've seen a quick flash of exasperation within those icy blue eyes. However, contrary to popular belief however, it was Michael who burnt hot and Lucifer the one who ran cold. "The Grace," Michael said stonily. Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you wanna talk about the Canyon? You should really check out the bottom of it - I could help you jump if you want…" Gabriel trailed off as Michael finally gave away to his anger: the tightly controlled face blushed an angry red and the eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Gabriel," The eldest Archangel murmured warningly, and took a step forwards to said Archangel. Gabriel stood his ground, proudly staring on, refusing to show how intimidated he really was. "This is a serious matter; Lucifer has been let out and the Apocalypse has begun."

"Yeah, and I don't see you trying tah stop it," Gabriel sniped back just as seriously. Michael's head tilted to the side in thought and consideration.

"No, Gabriel. I am not stopping it - but you already knew that, little brother. I intend to fulfil our Father's prophecy and kill Lucifer so that Paradise can once more reign upon Earth. It is my destiny, brother." Gabriel, suddenly feeling much braver than he really was, snorted and rolled his eyes. Michael even shot him a 'how dare you snort in my presence' sort of glare.

"Screw your destiny!" Gabriel exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air and gesturing about wildly. "Can't you see the big picture here, Michael? This isn't about _you_ or me, or even Lucifer! We were created for a bigger purpose - to serve Humans and love them more than we do our Father!"

Michael's icy fury covered Gabriel in chills as he spoke; "And we can serve them when I kill Lucifer. Paradise will make them happy - there is no murder, no sin, no hate in paradise - no suffering!"

"But that's the point, don't you see, Michael?" Gabriel finally murmured. A tourist walking past them shot the Archangels a curious glance but Michael absently waved his hand, rendering them invisible and inaudible. "There can be no happiness, no appreciation of it anyway, without suffering," Gabriel continued.

Michael chose that moment to lunge at Gabriel. The smaller and younger Archangel ducked out of the way, having anticipated the attack and hurriedly tightened his grip on his blade. Quickly spinning around, he attempted a half-hearted jab in Michael's general direction. Fighting his brothers was not something Gabriel was fond of.

His elder brother, however, seemed not to have any sort of inhibitions when it came to roughing up his brother and he lunged, and jabbed, and stabbed without qualms. Their little dance went unnoticed by the mortals; nevertheless, Gabriel noticed that many of them had quickly cleared the immediate area, probably subconsciously noticing the supercharged energy in the air.

And then Gabriel slipped up.

He saw Michael's blindingly gold sword pierce his vessel's abdomen and he stumbled back blindly. Gabriel felt his knees buckle under him and he toppled to the dusty ground, landing painfully on his back. He watched, eyes full of betrayal, as Michael stepped forwards smugly and roughly pulled the sword out.

Instantly, blood started gushing out of Gabriel's body, his own Grace intermingling with it. He paid it no mind, however. A wound that shallow and in his abdomen wouldn't kill him that easily - yes he would have to spend the next few weeks systematically repairing his Grace and body tissue, but he wouldn't die. With that thought in mind, Gabriel's eyes sought out Michael's and he felt himself break a little.

Betrayal; no matter who it was that betrayed you, always hurt. Especially if it was family.

"You're l-lost, Michael," Gabriel managed to stutter out as he pressed a hand to the wound to stop any more Grace to escape the vessel - the more Grace left the vessel, the longer he would need to regenerate it. Michael allowed bemusement to colour his features and then a small, cold, mocking smile appeared on his thin lips. The other Archangel squatted down and rested his arms on his knees.

"You would know, Gabriel. After all, it is _you_ that left Heaven and got lost in your own betrayal."

Gabriel shook his head, and reached out with his other hand to grab Michael's shirt and pull him closer. "This was not our purpose, Michael. We have to stop this… nonsense, stop the apocalypse."

"As opposed to what, brother?" The elder Archangel bit out, jerking away and standing up. "Fraternise with the enemy? The Serpent?" Seeing Gabriel's shocked expression, Michael smirked again. "Oh, yes. I know about our dear Harry Potter. I can _smell_ Lucifer on you, little brother - his darkness is nauseating - you have hidden him well, but I will find him; and when I do and he takes his vessel, we will fight, and our Father's will will be fulfilled."

A flutter of wings, and Michael was gone.

.

The corgi's warm weight on his chest was comforting. It was as though the dog could suck every negative thought and every physical affliction from Harry's mind and body. But considering this was an Archangel's dog, Harry thought it was very probable that he wasn't an ordinary canine. Harry shifted uncomfortably when K-9 moved his head in his sleep and ended up stuffing his dry nose into Harry's neck. The dog whined in protest in his sleep, forcing Harry to remain still.

"He seems to like you," Sam said suddenly, glancing up from the tome he'd been studying for the past few minutes. Harry blinked at him for a few moments before nodding, when he spoke it was in a whisper.

"Yeah, but he gets pissed if I try to move." Sam laughed lowly and they descended into silence once more. After a while Sam closed his book and reached out to grab another.

"Bobby's thankful you know, he's just too shy to say it," The younger Winchester murmured, carefully turning the book around. Harry bit his lip uncertainly; he didn't want to start talking about _that_ right now. In fact, he didn't really want to talk or think about Lucifer at all. The first chance he got, he would grab that grace, stick in a secure place and flee; that was the only reason why he was still with the Winchesters - they could help him find the Grace. He could handle people like Fudge or even Voldemort… but this, this was a little too 'out there' for him.

"You still looking for a place where Lucifer might be?" Harry whispered after a moment. Sam had been researching for that exact thing for the better part of the day and Harry had been watching him go through book after book, sighing defeatedly every time he set a tome aside.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Angels were pretty unknown 'till now so there aren't many books on them. Most religious texts just describe some of the omens that might come along with a being that powerful. Storms, weird temperature fluctuations, the like. But with the Horsemen out there and monsters we haven't seen before - well, it's just pretty hard to figure out which omens are for Lucifer and which ones are for the Horsemen," Sam said, voice rising slightly to the end. Harry could practically taste the frustration in the air and he briefly felt a little sadistic about it; the less Sam knew about locating Lucifer, the safer _he_ was.

"Hmm, sounds like a pain in the ass to research all of that by yourself," Harry murmured after a moment, turning his calculating gaze on Sam. The man shrugged defeatedly.

"Well, Dean's in the yard, fixing his Impala and Bobby's upstairs raiding his secret stash of books - y'know the rarer type. I pulled the short-straw," The Winchester said, lazily turning a page in his book.

Harry was just opening his mouth to reply when the dog snoozing on his chest let out a loud yelp and started frantically shifting on Harry, causing said Wizard to get a mouthful of furry paws in his mouth. Gagging slightly, Harry shot up to sitting position and threw the dog onto the floor. The corgi yelped loudly and started bolting around the room.

"Ow, mate - what the hell?" Harry said loudly, picking out a bunch of hairs from his mouth. A glance at Sam told him that the man was amused if not laughing outright at the situation. K-9, however, as though understanding what had been said to him, trotted back to Harry and started jumping on Harry insistently, whining all the while. Harry leaned down and patted his coat. "What's up, big guy?"

The dog let out another loud whine and seemed to burry his head between his front paws. Harry frowned at the odd behaviour. Dogs didn't do stuff like this right? What the hell?

"D'you know what set him off?" Harry murmured, glancing at Sam who shook his head. His expression was just as shocked and bemused. They heard a loud stomping from upstairs and then suddenly Bobby was stumbling down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing so as to support himself - his leg-muscles hadn't recovered quite yet.

"What's goin' on here?" He said gruffly, gaze sweeping around the room. But before anyone could reply, there was a loud thud and a bright flash of light and suddenly, Gabriel - the Archangel (and apparently also Harry's _little_ brother) - was lying on the carpet, shirt covered with blood.

"Oh Merlin, Gabriel!" Harry exclaimed, launching himself to his side. K-9 gave another whine and trotted over to the Archangel. He started licking Gabriel's face, as though hoping that that would help.

"What the hell-" Bobby started, gazing at the entire scene with wide eyes. Sam however, reacted quicker and bolted into the kitchen in search of the first-aid kit. As for Harry; he pulled out his holly wand and with one short wave, Gabriel's shirt and jacket disappeared, revealing a nasty wound in his abdomen which was still gushing with blood and something golden-white.

Harry attempted to cast a spell to stop the blood flow, and when that didn't work, he tried to cauterise the wound; but apparently magic didn't seem to work on Angels. Taking a deep breath, Harry noticed that Sam was making his way over to Gabriel and Harry, and was already opening the first aid kit. Knowing that he couldn't do much more, Harry moved away slightly, giving Sam the necessary place to stitch up the wound with muggle methods. Harry settled for pulling Gabriel's head onto his lap.

"L-Luci," Gabriel suddenly spluttered out - only loud enough for Sam and Harry to hear - and grabbed hold of Harry's polo shirt which completely ruined with the Archangel's blood - but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care. His thoughts were centred upon something of greater importance. Gabriel's golden eyes met Harry's and he muttered the same name again. Harry swallowed uncertainly - how did Gabriel know? Had he figured it out? But how?

"M-Michael - blade," Gabriel stuttered out, gesturing at the wound, which Sam was currently working on to stabilise.

"Michael? You mean the Archangel? He hurt you?" Harry replied quickly, attempting to keep the youngest Archangel - and his _little brother_ \- awake for as long as possible. Gabriel nodded faintly and then his eyes fluttered one last time and then closed.

"He's not dead," Sam murmured urgently after he had tested the Archangel's pulse; the question died in Harry's mouth. "Well, at least, the body isn't. And as far as I can see, there aren't any imprints of his wings in this room, so I guess we're safe for now… Can you do something - I mean you healed Bobby," Sam said. Harry instantly shook his head.

"I have no idea how I healed him; it was just an accident. I don't think I'd be able to replicate it."

Sam bit his lip uncertainly, and glanced down at Gabriel's wound, "We should call Cas, then - see if he can do anything."

Bobby sighed in relief and it suddenly struck Harry that the Winchesters and Bobby really, probably, didn't care about Gabriel's welfare; to them, the Archangel was just another tool, just another ally that was sticking around until they helped his brother - Harry. Was that what the Winchesters did? Had they managed to do all that they had simply because they took advantage of people's abilities or status? That was what they were trying to do with Harry, wasn't it?

"I'll get Dean - Cas always come when he calls." Bobby wobbled a little as he left through the back door.

Harry however bowed his head and closed his eyes. If Cas was going to help him; it wouldn't be because some Winchester decided to call him. _I don't know how to do this,_ he murmured to himself as he forced his mind to conjure up Castiel's image, _but I'm trying to pray to you, Cas. Gabriel's in trouble-_

Harry was cut off as suddenly there was a loud flutter of wings, and he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning his concerned gaze to the person above him, Harry nodded in acknowledgement when he saw Castiel standing there. His expression was more serious than ever. "Harry," The Angel murmured in greeting. He nodded at Sam, who was staring between Harry and Cas with confusion, as though he couldn't quite believe that someone other than Dean had managed to 'summon' Cas.

"I did what I could…" Sam said after a moment, gesturing at the injury which was now thankfully closed. He hadn't dressed it yet, though. Castiel squatted down on Gabriel's other side and placed a hesitant hand on the Archangel's abdomen. For a moment, Castiel's eyes glowed brightly and the Gabriel's abdomen was lit up as though someone had put a bright lamp underneath it, but when the light receded, Castiel turned his shocked gaze back to his spectators.

"And Archangel's blade did this," He murmured softly.

"The hell?!" Dean and Bobby were back. The former rushed over to Sam and was staring at Gabriel with wide eyes while Bobby hung back, uncertain of what he should do.

"Yeah - Gabriel said something about Michael," Sam explained. Castiel bit his lip uncertainly and he glanced down at Gabriel's limp body.

"If Michael did this, then I cannot heal Gabriel. His Grace will have to do the job by itself," The Angel murmured.

"He was bleeding this sort of… light earlier on - was that Grace?" Harry asked after a moment. K-9 seemed to realise that his emotional state wasn't very stable and tried to crawl into his lap. Castiel's eyes flickered briefly down to the canine before meeting Harry's once more.

"Yes; a wound such as that can be life-threatening to an Angel. The Grace slowly escapes the vessel until there is nothing left and the Angel is simply deteriorates into nothingness. Closing his wound will work temporarily, until he has recuperated enough that he can heal himself." Harry traded an uneasy look with Sam at that piece of information.

With another wordless look, Sam and Harry easily decided to transport Gabriel onto the sofa which the wizard had been previously enjoying. And with another wave of his hand, Harry conjured up a thin blanket (with _Hello Kitty's_ head on it), which he supposed Angels didn't need, but Gabriel would appreciate the little prank when he woke up. K-9 however, turned an angry glare on Harry - _if dogs could do angry glares_ \- and proceeded to jump on Gabriel's blanketed legs and start scratching _Hello Kitty's_ face. ***2**

Dean let out a short laugh and rubbed his greasy hands against each other. "I guess everything's ok, then." He grabbed the cloth that he had slung over his shoulder and started wiping off the dirt and grime. "Did he say anything," Dean asked, gesturing at Gabriel's vessel on Bobby's sofa. "Before he fell unconscious?"

Harry's gaze darkened again. So this was the real Dean? The Dean that only cared what information they got, and not the person they got it from? Sam seemed about to reply but Harry cut him off easily, eyes flashing slightly. "No, nothing else."

Sam tilted his head to the side in question, but wisely kept silent. Dean and Bobby didn't need to know just yet what Gabriel had called Harry. For now, Harry was adamant on keeping the cat in the bag.

.

It was almost twelve hours later that Gabriel's eyes fluttered open. The wound had been healing magically for the past half-a-day. Harry had sat at his bedside - er, sofa-side - watching Gabriel and had stared on in amazement as the several layers of skin tissue slowly creeped towards each other to heal over. He watched as slowly, nothing remained but an angry red scar, and then that too, became white and then disappeared.

"Erm, I didn't know they were auditioning for Dulcoax constipation medicine advert, 'cause I'm sure that with that intense stare, you would get the job right then and there!" ***3**

Harry's eyes widened and his gaze shifted from the wound that was pretty much gone, to Gabriel's golden eyes. "Gabriel!" He exclaimed loudly. Gabriel grinned back, only now, Harry noticed that the grin was slightly put out, and the warmth that Harry had seen in his eyes wasn't the same.

"Oh God-"

"-No, no," Gabriel interrupted easily. "My name is Gabriel, but you can call me Loki too."

Harry ignored his comment and pressed on. "Mate, what the hell happened? K-9 went ballistic just before you appeared, half-dead!"

Gabriel looked affronted. "I wasn't half-dead!" He trailed off and glanced down at his stomach contemplatively. "Well, I was pretty badly hurt though. Cheers for healing me up!" K-9 chose that moment to launch himself at Gabriel's face and lick him up again. Gabriel laughed genially, causing Harry to do a double take.

"I see you got K-9, then. I sent him here to watch over you, y'know, seeing as I thought you were my little brother." Gabriel suddenly seemed to realise that he'd said that in the past tense only after he'd said it, and he froze. Then slowly, he set K-9 down and turned to look at Harry. Said Wizard swallowed uncomfortably.

"So, you know," Harry murmured after a moment, turning his gaze to his interlocked fingers. Gabriel sighed deeply and nodded once. Harry could feel his probing stare.

"You're Lucifer." Hearing those words coming out from someone else's mouth was even worse than acknowledging them himself. Nevertheless, Harry nodded once. The sudden silence that enveloped them was deafening and it made Harry want to run off so that he didn't have to bear it.

"I-I-I didn't know," Harry stuttered out slowly, breaking the silence. "Until I woke up this morning, that is; I guess my dream was sort of triggered by all the shit that's been happing… I just remember Lucifer in the cage praying to God to forgive him. I swear, right now I'm just Harry. Hell, I don't even want to be Lucifer. I just want to put his Grace in a bottle and lock him up for ever."

Gabriel laughed hollowly. "Harry, you're still Lucifer. I know you wanna deny it, but underneath it all, its his Grace that makes up your soul." Harry risked a glance at Gabriel and saw that his expression was sour as though he himself didn't want to hear the true words that he had to say. Harry understood him, and knew he was right… but still. He was Harry, he had grown up as Harry and he only remembered being Harry. "And I know you feel like Lucifer wouldn't behave as you do," Gabriel continued. "But before he fell, we were each others' best friend - you were my favourite brother. And he was a lot like you. The Devil you know, is the Serpent he became when he fell."

Harry looked away uncomfortably; he had no memories of being Lucifer - save for the one that he had seen in his sleep. He couldn't possibly talk to a man - an Archangel - that loved him like a brother… and knew him inside out.

"I guess this is a good opportunity for you guys to kill me. That way, Michael never gets to me and the world can continue spinning like a merry-go-round," Harry said with a snort. Gabriel's stare darkened and he shook his head furiously.

"I'm not killing some teenager in his diapers-"

"-A teenager who defeated Voldemort," Harry pointed out with a small half-hearted smirk. Gabriel snorted.

"-just because he happens to be an amnesic Lucifer. No, if you want; I'll take you to your Grace and… we can hide it away."

"Yeah," Harry snorted sarcastically. "And I'll spend the rest of my life running from Michael - who apparently almost killed you - and the Winchesters, yeah. No thanks. Let's figure something out, something else."

Gabriel snapped his fingers and suddenly he was dressed in a long-armed shirt and a dark green jacket. He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and shifted in the sofa so that he was sitting across from Harry, who had settled himself in a chair. Gabriel closed his eyes briefly in defeat, "It's our only option really. As soon as you take on the Grace, we can all start buying tickets for Paradise. Michael is older and more powerful, so ultimately there is literally no other ending other than your death, his victory and Paradise on earth."

" _You_ could… kill me," Harry suggested once more and Gabriel's eyes flashed again.

"No," He said sternly and with finality. "Besides, Michael would just bring you back." Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"He can do that?!" He exclaimed, staring at his… little brother. Gabriel smirked and waggled his fingers.

"Archangel perks," he muttered, before sobering up a little. "And he knows you're Lucifer, so he'll be keeping a close eye on you."

"Which means, that hiding away my Grace is pretty much useless too," Harry said, sighing deeply. Gabriel licked his lips and turned his gaze down to his lap and discovered that he was still tucked into a Hello Kitty blanket. Harry smirked.

"Nice touch," Gabriel said with a short laugh and snapped his fingers. The blanket disappeared, causing K-9 to bark happily.

"The last thing I wanna do is become that murdering psychopath again," Harry said after a moment. Gabriel frowned and was silent for several minutes, seemingly mulling over something. Finally, he turned his golden gaze on Harry, and tilted his head to the side.

"Didn't you say that you dreamt that you prayed to Daddy-o in the cage? Was that how you got out?"

"Erm," Harry started, oh so very eloquently, "Well, I remember Lucifer praying for forgiveness and God, uh, sort of forgave him. The one condition was that he learned how to love Humans and for that, he had to become one. He said something about living several Human lives - the last of which would be Harry Potter - mine." Gabriel blinked at him, surprised and then slowly, a smile started to stretch over his lips until it was so large and genuine that Harry felt his own lips start to replicate a half-hearted, uncertain smile. Was that good news? He didn't see how.

Seeing Harry's lack of enthusiasm, Gabriel gently whacked him on his head. "Don't you see, Harry?! He's forgiven you!"

"Eh, what does that mean, exactly?" Harry said uncertainly. Gabriel shook his head and mumbled something about 'urgh, humans'.

"He gave you a second chance to become you - the you before the Fall! I was his Messenger and I was used to figuring out his crappy messages - which I tell you, would make a Ravenclaw burst into tears. This is him giving you a second chance to help Humanity when it needs it most - during the Apocalypse!"

"Oh, ok," Harry mumbled, blinking rapidly as he tried to take in all that information. "So what - that means that I _do_ take back my Grace and we stop Michael from killing me, or what? Oh yeah, and if I ever remember about-" Harry vaguely gestured to his head, "-well, about being Lucifer, we'll just have to hope that I don't become some sort of murdering psychopath." Harry gazed out the window into the salvage yard for a few brief moments. "That doesn't seem like a very solid plan."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You got anything better, bro?"

"Ok, so what do we propose we do with Michael?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "He's the eldest right, so the most powerful."

Gabriel pursed his lips and his gaze unfocused for a moment. "Well, the Colt is obviously outta the question, there's only six things in all of creation that it can't kill and we are two of them. We could stuff him into the cage?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah ok, but how the hell do you want to find - or even open up the cage? Didn't God lock it up in the first place?" Gabriel tapped a finger against his chin in thought.

"We could try out the Horsemen's rings, you see, the four of them work as a sort of key to the cage. If we do that, we actually have a chance of pushing Mickey Mouse into the cage," Gabriel said, eyes finally focusing back on Harry. Said wizard licked his lips uncomfortably.

"We can't do that alone, Gabe. We need to work with the Winchesters-"

"-Absolutely not!" Gabriel exclaimed, eyes darkening as he spoke.

"I'll let you screw them over once we're done," Harry proposed with a shit-eating grin. The other Archangel scrunched up his face in thought before he finally, slowly started nodding. They descended into a comfortable silence whereupon both of them mulled over their new and _totally_ _foolproof_ plan.

Finally, Harry fixed his very serious gaze on Gabriel. "If I _do_ go batshit-crazy… Gabe, you have to promise me something," Harry murmured. Gabriel frowned and his eyes narrowed - it seemed that he already had an inkling as to what Harry was trying to allude to. "Kill me. I know it's not completely impossible to kill an Archangel, 'cause everything that has ever been created, can also be destroyed. Don't hesitate, just finish me off, eh?"

Gabriel had started shaking his head the moment Harry had started speaking but Harry placed a hand on his shoulder; a silent plea. It was the only logical course of action. The bottom line was: Lucifer had been pretty damn ruthless and had murdered a shit-ton of people before he had been incarcerated, best not to take any risks now. Gabriel seemed to understand that, because after a few seconds, his head stopped moving and then he gave a gentle, hesitant nod.

"So, where's the rest of the Brady Bunch?" Gabriel asked cheerfully, but the emotion in his voice and countenance was almost completely faked. Harry's narrowed gaze examined for a moment longer, and then he sighed, letting it go. ***4**

"Well, Cas is still looking for - ehm - Dad, Dean's out in the yard messing around with his Impala, Bobby, well, I don't know where he is, and Sam's drawing protection sigils on the entire property," Harry summarised.

Gabriel smirked wickedly. "So what do you say we set up a few pranks before we Usain Bolt ourselves outta here?"

Harry let out a short laugh, but then realising that Gabriel was being completely serious forced a stern frown on his face. "No. Gabriel. NO. We are not pranking the Winchesters; as much as I dislike them, they'll end up hunting our arses all around the world for payback."

"I'd like to see them try," Gabriel said snidely and then raised his nose into the air arrogantly in a pose that would make Draco Malfoy proud. "No one tricks the Trickster."

"'Cept Michael, obviously," Harry replied just as snidely. Gabriel glared playfully back at him and then gestured around him as though to say - prank, or no prank? Harry hesitated for a moment and glanced around the study/kitchen nervously. Finally, he raised his pointer finger.

"Fine - we can do one. And when I mean one, I mean _one_." Gabriel rolled his eyes and seemed to want to argue, but relented when he saw Harry's stern expression.

The younger Archangel grinned gleefully and snapped his fingers; at once, the back door's lock clicked open and the door gap between the frame and door widened. A bucket of God knows what, appeared on top of the door, precariously balancing on it's edge. And above that, hovered a bag of hot pink feathers. Harry let out a chocked laugh and exchanged a gleeful grin with Gabriel.

"Classic," Harry muttered, slapping his brother on the back. Gabriel's smile widened.

"You gonna tell them?" Gabriel said after a few moments. Harry hesitated, knowing exactly what Gabriel was referring to.

"Well, they're trying to kill me - or well, Lucifer - right?" Harry started, fidgeting uncomfortably under Gabriel's suddenly expressionless eyes. "I don't wanna die, and frankly they seem like prejudiced arseholes." He fell silent and then noticing that Gabriel was about to reiterate his question, he continued. "But, we all want to stop the Apocalypse from happening, so that sort of puts us on the same side. I'm done being manipulated - you found my Grace right? So I'm just going to take that back and hope for the best. Then we gotta find a way to convince the Winchester's that the Devil is a harmless lil' butterfly and hunt down the Horsemen together."

"So, you're gonna tell them," Gabriel summarised bluntly. Harry rolled his eyes and picked K-9 up; the dog started to lick his hands.

"Nah, they're gonna work it out soon enough; Sam doesn't strike me as such a dumb fellow." Gabriel tugged K-9 out of Harry's arms like a jealous little brother and started feeding the dog inappropriately-shaped dog-treats.

"Michel will be waiting for us, you know," Gabriel murmured, gazing down at his dog. "He'll want to battle you then and there."

Harry licked his dry lips and looked away. "Well then, we'll have to be extra-careful, won't we?"

.

"Dude, I think we should check Potter out; y'know, background check and all," Dean said, wiping a greasy wrench with his terribly dirty grey shirt - although Sam was pretty sure that that had once been white. Sam exchanged a glance with Bobby.

"Well, I did, while he was sitting in there with Gabriel," Sam jerked a finger at Bobby's house. They - Bobby, Dean, Sam and even Cas (who had come down after Dean had prayed to him) - were all gathered together in the small make-shift barn that Bobby used as a garage. Dean was currently cleaning up after his latest touch-up session with the Impala.

"And what d'you find?" Bobby asked; he was leaning against one of the cluttered work-tables, his legs still too weak to properly support his weight for a lengthy amount of time.

"Well, the guy's so normal; his profile would make the FBI suspicious - he's _that_ normal," Sam replied, wringing his hands nervously. Castiel's small frown deepened and he turned his serious gaze on the younger Winchester.

"That 'guy'," He stressed, finally using the quotation gesture properly. "Is anything but normal. He is an Angel of the Lord." Dean snorted at that and tossed the tool he was still holding into a tool-box.

"Yo Cas, don't fly to high to the sun, your wings'll get burned," said the elder Winchester rolling his eyes. Bobby let out a vague snort while Castiel cocked his head to the side, evidently not understanding the reference. ***5**

"The question remains," Cas continued in a formal tone, ignoring Dean. "Where is his Grace and what Angel he is - which we can only find out once Gabriel wakes up from his sleep." Dean exchanged a glance with Bobby and threw his hands into the air as though to say 'why the hell can nothing go our way for once'.

"Well," Sam started uncertainly and all eyes instantly swung to meet his own gaze. "I have _something_. I don't- basically, when Gabriel appeared in Bobby's house, he grabbed onto Potter's shirt and said 'Lucy'." Sam pressed on, although he watched with slight horror as everyone else in the barn came to the same conclusion as he had. "At first, I thought Gabriel was just mumbling nonsense, but then Potter - he turned to me and just stared coldly at me as though to say 'if you value your life, don't say anything'."

"Lucy - you mean… you mean he might have said Luci, as in Lucifer?" Dean said, voice deep and serious. He took a threatening step towards Sam. "And you only thought of telling us now!?"

"Whoa, Dean," Bobby said roughly, placing a hand on Dean's chest, to stop him from physically attempting to attack Sam. "Take it easy."

Sam threw his hands into the air in the universal gesture of 'what did you want me to do?' "Dude, I was in the room with the guy? What did you want me to say?" He continued in a slightly mocking tone, "'Hey, Potter are you really the reborn Lucifer?'"

"This is troubling news," Castiel's low voice cut through any squabble that could have started between Sam and Dean. Said Angel's gaze unfocused briefly and then he very suddenly disappeared.

"Aw man, friggin' Angels," Dean grumbled with an eye-roll, but just as the final words escaped his mouth, the Angel reappeared. He looked troubled - an expression which Sam thought didn't look right on Cas' face **.**

"I bring worrisome news," Castiel said and his x-ray gaze shifted from one hunter to the other, "Gabriel and Harry - Lucifer, I suppose - are gone."

.

The wild donkey was stuffing its nose under Harry's armpit.

The situation would have actually been quite funny if Harry and Gabriel hadn't been hiding behind a wall of tourists. Fact was, they were both peering through the small cracks in the crowd trying to identify the angels standing guard at the edge of the Grand Canyon. He and Gabriel sat on a stray bench, using the moving crowd in front of them as a sort of shield. Harry would have actually been really fascinated by the beauty of everything surrounding him; if he hadn't been gazing around in anticipation, nervously knowing that soon, he would be Lucifer again. Also, knowing that people who wanted to kill you were only metres from you did noting to improve one's mental state.

"One of Charlie's Angel's - just a foot soldier - is just by that tree over there," Gabriel murmured quietly to Harry, gesturing vaguely at a thick tree almost at the edge of his vision. Indeed, the man looked like an angel; he was wearing a dark, professionally cut suit - although Harry was sweating buckets (ok, maybe he was also just a bit nervous) - and his facial expression resembled that of Cas'; empty yet serious. ***6**

"And one over there," Gabriel said lowly, pointing at a red-haired woman. She too was wearing a greyish suit and was currently standing next to a hotdog stand, hands folded behind her back as she surveyed the ambling masses of tourists.

"Oooh, not inconspicuous at all," Harry muttered back, earning a snort from Gabriel. Said Archangel glanced at him and snorted again.

"Oi, Eddie Murphy over there is trying tah molest you," said the Archangel. Harry shot him a brief glare and pushed the donkey away. ***7**

"How does Eddie Murphy come into this equation?"

For a moment, Gabriel just stared at him, blinking rapidly as though still attempting to process the words that had just been spoken. "I swear, once we're done with this freak show, we're sitting down for a few centuries and catching up on Disney and Pixar movies." Harry gave vague shrug as though to say 'if you say so'.

"How don't they," Harry gestured at the Angels and thusly changed the topic to more… pressing matters. "Know that _you're_ here? I would have thought that an Archangel would give out some sort of, eh, aura."

"I'm suppressing it. It's hard, but I've been doing it for a few centuries. After all, how did you think that I fooled a bunch of pagan gods that I was one of 'em?" Gabriel said with a smirk. Harry shrugged again and turned his attention back to the scene at hand.

"See those Jehovah's Witnesses standing over there?" Gabriel said suddenly, very serious this time. Harry followed his line of sight and saw two young men, both dressed in black suits. Their hair was shortly cropped and they had gleaming smiles: they were also waving around a bunch of bibles. Harry gave a small nod to indicate that yes, he could see them. "We'll apparently all of Jehovah's Witnesses now work for Michael too."

Harry turned his wide-eyed expression on Gabriel. "Wait, are you telling me that we have to get rid of two Angels and those guys over there to get to the Grace? Pff, what _could_ go wrong?"

"Oh yeah, and don't forget, Michael is probably only one phone-call - or well, radio call - away," Gabriel said with a smirk, but even Harry could see a glint of worry in his eyes.

"So we just go out there, guns blazing? Seems awfully Gryffindor of you, Gabe. Mate, I don't have that firepower." Harry teased, while scratching the back of his head uncomfortable, knowing that there was truth in his words. Said Archangel shot him a brief glance of _something_ which Harry didn't have the time to identify. Was it something he'd said?

"Well, you're Harry Potter."

Harry stared blankly at him and Gabriel rolled his eyes before he reached into Harry's pocket and pulled out his wand which he placed into said wizard's hands. "You're a wizard, bucko."

"Oh right. Yeah."

"Ok, you take care of the Humans - put them to sleep or something. I'll… get rid of the Angels." Gabriel's indifferent expression gave away towards the end and he sighed deeply. Harry out a comforting hand on his shoulder so as to reassure him.

"It's not your fault, Gabe." Gabriel rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway and disappeared with a bright, dramatic flash. Harry rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatic flair and similarly disappeared only to reappear next to the Jehovah Witnesses. With a quick spell he quickly took care of both men; they toppled to the ground, asleep and invisible. People milled around Harry, but he paid them no mind. Instead choosing to turn his attention to his brother Gabriel.

The Archangel was standing at the edge of the Canyon. The other Angels were gone. Harry gently neared his brother at the edge of the precipice and they both gazed into the majestic view before them. However, Harry noticed Gabriel's gaze jumping from one spot to the next with lighting speed, as though he was seeing something that Harry couldn't.

"Your Grace is acting up, Harry," said the Archangel, reaching out with his hand, and waggling his fingers into the air. Harry stared uncertainly at his brother and then turned his gaze back into the valley below them.

"I don't see anything."

Gabriel snorted and let his hand drop. "Of course not, you're Human." He probably hadn't meant it as an insult, but it sure did feel like one. Harry looked away and took a few steps in the opposite direction.

He felt odd here. Like he was at home, but not quite there yet. Like he wasn't yet completely Alice. Something was holding him back. Harry felt a shiver go through him and he wondered if it was the Grace around them that was reaching out. It was cold though, not warm like had imagined it to be. It sent chills through Harry's body. And when Harry let out a deep breath that he hadn't managed to release upon seeing the valley, he noticed it condensing and he realised very suddenly that the temperature around them had dropped several degrees.

Above them, the sky was darkening and deep rumbles were starting to emanate from it. Around them, the tourists started exchanging worried glances and hurrying off to find shelter from the dark weather.

"Michael's on his way," Gabriel said suddenly, his sharp voice ripping through Harry's thoughts. "It's now or never, chuckles." Harry took a deep breath and balled his fists. Then he spun around to meet Gabriel's dark gaze; those golden eyes now shone with concern and slightly fear.

"What do I do?" Harry was almost embarrassed by how small his voice sounded, and how utterly insignificant he himself was at that moment. Gabriel rushed a hand through his hair; a gesture of impatience.

"Just concentrate on it - call it to you."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to separate himself from all distractions. The feeble occlumency walls that he'd been building up for the past few months were once more resurrected as he attempted to isolate his mind from his body and physical awareness.

And suddenly, he was in another place; a place somewhere deep in his mind which had somehow managed to survive all of his ordeals unscathed. He didn't notice the rain-splatter anymore, nor the storm overhead, or even how the atmosphere around him that was now super-charged with… energy; whether it was the Grace or the from the storm overhead, he didn't know.

Suddenly the only thing that actually mattered, was _his_ Grace. The only single string of energy that seemed to glow brighter and burn brighter than anything else around him. It was deathly cold and Harry almost felt that if he were to touch it, he would get frostbite. And when he slowly let his eyes flutter open, Harry gasped.

Suddenly, it seemed as though he was in completely different place. It wasn't the Canyon as the Humans knew it anymore. Instead, it was filled with tendrils of light that shone brightly and wove themselves between bushes, stones, trees and people. He saw Gabriel standing a little to the side, smiling genially at him, seemingly for once completely unconcerned by the generally terrifying situation.

Harry similarly took no notice of the literal storm brewing overhead and instead watched with amazement as those small tendrils of light started culminating in front of Harry, creating a sort of large mass of brilliant light that was simply all-consuming. It should've blinded him, Harry mused, but oddly, he felt that little bit of Grace that made up his soul reaching out, yearning to be rejoined with it's other half. He felt a sense of 'homecoming' wash over him and although he was pretty sure that he would somehow, someday regret it, Harry spread out his proverbial arms and welcomed the rest of the Grace.

The white mass of light in front of him seemed to _sing_ ; it broke into a beautiful chorus of sounds and it's cool arms enveloped Harry, before finally entering his body, soul and mind.

* * *

 **Preview chapter 7:**

 _"Hello Harry," Lucifer said with a smirk as he raised his glass as though for a toast. He gestured at the armchair that sat across him, eyes never leaving Harry's. "Please, sit."_

 _Gulping, Harry slowly crossed the room to sit in the plush armchair. The Archangel winked at him and very suddenly threw his legs over his armchair's arm so that they rested on the floor. "I'm so pleased to meet you," he said, eyes wide and playful; there was a slyness there though, which Harry thought was naive not to notice._

 _"I can't really say the same," Harry replied, voice sounding stronger than he had thought it would. Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, or at least, it sounded genuine._

* * *

 **I hope y'all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it... School is starting in a week and a half so I won't update every week after that. I'm a nerd (fandom and otherwise) so I study a lot (to get Bs in school we literally have to study at least three hours) and I go to a school in my fourth language so that's a challenge too. Huh. Ok, enough self-pity. BTW, sorry 'bout the long AN message. :/**

 **ANs:**

 ***1:** Pringles flavour is a reference to the episode 'Partners in crime' from Doctor Who.

 ***2:** Obviously Hello Kitty reference. Once my grandmother gave me a pack of Hello Kitty socks and I told her I really, really loved them (Ha! I was a huuuuge tomboy)... anyway, she spent the next few years giving me Hello Kitty themed stuff. I was not amused. But! I felt bad telling her that I hate Hello Kitty so...

 ***3:** Dulcoax constipation medicine is a real thing. You guys don't know how awkward it is to google that on your mum's computer once yours shuts down.

 ***4:** Brady Bunch: American sitcom. I have never watched it though...

 ***5:** Burnt wings reference is to the myth of Icarus who flew too close to the sun and the feathers of his makeshift wings fell apart cause they were held together by wax. Dean is basically telling Cas to get off of his high-horse.

 ***6:** Charlie's Angels: Omg, did you guys realise that Chuck's (God's) name is basically Charles and Charles is Charlie, so technically all Angel's are Charlie's Angels? XD Anyway, this is a reference to the movie.

 ***7:** Reference to SHREK the movie in which Eddie Murphy plays Donkey.

 **Anonymous Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Some more coming right up! Thanks for reading, btw.

 **Jaden Xiang:** Thank you! ahah well, Gabriel did bring him to his grace, alright. XD

 **Qwerty:** Ahhh thank you for ur enthusiastic review! hahah I love Michael too. He's pretty damn awesome (My fav will always be Gabriel, Chuck and Lucifer tho XD)... anyway, I hope you like what I did with him... I'm sort of trying to portray him as the good son to the absent father who really only wants to be strong for his brothers... make sense?

 **nono:** awww thank you!

 **Felix Narome:** *reads your review over and over again* *melts* aww, thank you, you're so kind! Literally, I checked my emails at like 3am and spent the next fifteen minutes just smiling at my laptop.

 **Mim (ALSO, ANYONE IS WELCOME TO READ THIS CAUSE I ANSWER A LOT OF COMMON QUESTIONS):** *bows* it is because of people like you that I honestly, really love writing. Obviously, I love writing for the sake of writing... but it is always awesome to get really thorough reviews like yours.. you just made my day! Ahhhh, yes, the memory... well, that'll sort of be explained as the story moves on. It was sort of mentioned this chapter, but HP and Gabriel will discuss it more thoroughly later on. Well, most of my stories end up being pretty angsty... idk why; so I'm sort of trying to write a slightly more humour story this time around. It'll be a little dramatic and angsty, but *shrug* if you're writing Gabriel, there HAS to be some humour. Well, regarding the memories: I don't really want to reveal the plot in one review but I'll give you one hint: HP is getting his Grace back... but that doesn't heal the amnesia just yet... *wink* *wink* As for your direct questions:

 **1\. How long will the story be?** Circa 12 chapters, I think. Not really that sure yet, and if you multiply that by say... 5 or 6.. you got your answer XD

 **2\. How far in the Supernatural seasons will you go?** Ehm... just season 5. Maybe I'll write a sequel after that...

 **3\. Guest appearances from the Wizarding World?** Yes! One or two definitely!

 **4\. Will this eventually be wildly AU, or are you planning on staying somewhat close to canon while incorporating the changes you've made?** Well, I dislike stories where you add one character and the plot doesn't change at all. That doesn't make sense to me. So anyway, yeah, it will be AU.

 **5\. And finally, the dreaded question: pairings?** Hahhaha, No. I write gen!fanfiction, meaning the main characters don't end up in a relationship. A one-night stand, sure. But no relationship with mushy stuff. I can't write stuff like that.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - IN which Harry has an identity crisis and has a history lesson.**

 **This chapter was extremely hard to write; I have absolutely no idea. I guess it has to do with Lucifer's complex character. I don't want to depict him as innocent or misunderstood, because he isn't - not completely anyway, but I also don't want him depicted as the personification of evil. Does that make sense? Well, I hope you enjoy this.**

 **On a side note, this is probably the last regular update as I am starting school on Tuesday.**

* * *

 _He was in his dreamscape again._

 _Only this time, Harry felt more aware of himself; like he could actually physically sense the place he was in. He could feel the smooth wooden floor underneath him and the cool current of wind that cut through the air. His nose could even perceive the faintest traces of cigar smoke and bacon. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, Harry gazed around._

 _What he was looking at now, wasn't a memory, not what he'd seen in the cage. This was more…_ realistic. _It felt like that time that Harry had met Dumbledore in his mind, only even_ clearer. _The edges of his vision weren't blurry and he could clearly categorise what he was seeing_ ** _._**

 _Harry was curiously standing in some sort of ranch; the floor, like the wall and pretty much everything were made from dark (mahogany?) wood._ _Hunting spoils_ _hung on the walls; all staring at Harry unblinkingly. Said wizard's gaze slowly wandered around the cabin, examining every detail with acute speculation; how was he seeing what he was seeing? He had always been under the impression that a wizard couldn't dream something that he hadn't experienced himself._

 _Only, Harry mused, this wasn't a dream and he most certainly wasn't_ just _a wizard._

 _And then he saw him._

 _Lucifer - and it most certainly was Lucifer - sat in a high-winged armchair, smirking at him smugly. He seemed incapable of sitting correctly for he had swung his legs over the armchairs' arm. His hand was moving in vague rotations as he swirled the alcoholic beverage in his tumbler. This representation of Lucifer_ _Lucifer had bright eyes and relatively light-coloured hair, he was dressed casually; a dark shirt and jeans which Harry thought looked slightly out-of-place on someone like him; something like a burgundy or bordeaux coloured suit - while cliche - would have somehow made more sense._ ***1**

 _"_ _Hello Harry," Lucifer said with a smirk as he raised his glass as though for a toast. He gestured at the armchair that sat across him, eyes never leaving Harry's. "Please, sit."_

 _Gulping, Harry slowly crossed the room to sit in the plush armchair. The Archangel winked at him and very suddenly threw his legs over his armchair's arm so that they rested on the floor. "I'm so pleased to meet you," he said, eyes wide and playful; there was a slyness there though, which Harry thought was naive not to notice._

 _"_ _I can't really say the same," Harry replied, voice sounding stronger than he had thought it would. Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, or at least, it sounded genuine._

 _"_ _I like you," Lucifer said, wagging his finger at him as he set down his tumbler. "Really, I do," He continued, seeing Harry's incredulous glare. "You know why, dearest?"_

 _"_ _Don't call me that," the Wizard shot back almost automatically. Lucifer smirked again._

 _"_ _You're…" Lucifer rolled his shoulders and his eyes wandered to the ceiling as he searched for the correct word. "Tenacious?"_

 _"_ _Look, I don't care what game you're playing here,_ Luci, _but I sure am not playing it! I took the Grace, right - well, go on, kill me off! Why haven't you taken over my body?" Harry demanded. Lucifer let out another quiet and slightly sarcastic laugh._

 _"_ _Oh, why Harry," Lucifer exclaimed in a mockingly concerned tone while placing a hand on his heart. "I'm offended that you think that I would do such a thing!"_

 _Harry's frown deepened in confusion. "So what the hell are you planning then?"_

 _Lucifer smirked and adjusted his position in the armchair again. He downed the rest of his beverage and smacked his lips. "I'm a difficult man," Lucifer said, eyes_ _unfocusing_ _for a brief moment. "And most of my siblings hate me for the crimes that I have been accused of-"_

 _Harry let out a hollow laugh, interrupting the Archangel. He really wanted to point out that Lucifer was neither innocent, nor a man. "-So what, all the crap you've done isn't true? All of it is just allegations?" Harry couldn't help the disbelieving tone that coloured his words. Lucifer winked at him._

 _"_ _Ha! No, of course, all of that's true," Lucifer said waving his hand in the air as though to say 'unimportant'. "But that's irrelevant. Weren't you listening to Gabriel earlier on - Father has forgiven you for your sins."_

 _Harry stood up angrily and the armchair behind him was shoved a few paces back. "Like hell he has! They're not_ my _sins anyhow!"_

 _Lucifer actually tutted. "Harry, Harry, Harry - when will you learn? You and me - we're the same! Your sins are mine and mine are yours; we are the same person." Lucifer's eyes flashed. "As for 'Daddy', well, don't you remember what he said in the cage - you have learnt your lesson."_

 _"_ _Well what's the use of having such a thorough lesson if I don't even remember my past lives," Harry shot back quickly. "And why don't I remember being you?"_

 _"_ _Ah! Yes! Progress!" Lucifer exclaimed, mockingly clapping his hands together. "See - you're finally referring to me as in you! You're accepting me!"_

 _"_ _I'm accepting squat," Harry spat out. The Archangel rolled his eyes and then threw the tumbler over his shoulder. It cracked upon hitting the floor._

 _"_ _You were a human, your brain wasn't wired to hold that many memories," Lucifer explained after a moment of contemplative silence._

 _"_ _And I'm not anymore." It was more of a statement than a question. Lucifer stretched his upper body and then proceeded to fold his hands under his head, making him seem much more relaxed than he truly was._

 _"_ _Nope," Lucifer said, popping the 'p' cheerfully. "When you wake up, you'll be an Archangel. But alas," He said in a mockingly serious tone. "You won't be me quite yet. I guess that's the part of_ Daddy's _punishment. He wishes you - as Harry Potter - to experience being an Archangel before you regain our memories as me."_

 _Harry dropped himself deeper into his own armchair and started massaging his head. "I'm getting a headache from this pronoun shit."_

 _"_ _Drink?" Lucifer said after a moment and Harry re-opened his eyes only to find that the_ Devil _had picked up a new tumbler and had poured some sort of alcoholic beverage into it. Harry accepted it wryly. Lucifer rolled his eyes at Harry's hesitance. "I'm not gonna kill you, if that's what you think. How can I possibly do that anyway - we're in your mind and I'm simply a figment of your imagination. But I told you I liked you, didn't I?"_

 _"_ _That's a tad narcissistic, don't you think?" Harry shot back, taking a sip of his whiskey and enjoying the harsh burn of whiskey against his throat. Lucifer shrugged and folded his hands behind his head again._

 _"_ _So I'm in charge for now?" Harry asked after a moment eyes finally meeting Lucifer's cold ones. The Archangel pursed his lips._

 _"_ _Unfortunately," He snorted and seeing Harry opening his mouth to ask harshly what he would be doing if he_ was _in control, Lucifer continued. "Don't worry, you remember praying to God in the cage, don't you? You remember how I felt; I'm not some homicidal maniac anymore - not that I ever was - and when you remember who you once were, you won't be either."_

 _"_ _So what, you expect me to believe that nothing'll happen when I wake up? That I'll be the same ol' Harry?"_

 _Lucifer's laugh was very sarcastic. "Hell no. You'll change. I think having six-hundred wings sprouting from your back will change something, don't you think? But psychologically… we are the same. You are simply a variation of my personality, albeit a slightly more noble and pathetic one. Harry, the sooner you accept that, the quicker we'll be at peace and the sooner we can stop the Apocalypse."_

 _Harry examined the Archangel over the rim of his glass; he_ seemed _honest. But then again, this was the Devil that he was talking about. Trickery and lies were practically part of his job prescription. "And what's impeding me from remembering my life as you?" Harry mumbled into his glass._

 _"_ _Finally, you're asking the right questions!" The Archangel exclaimed, smirking as he poured himself another glass of whiskey and raised it into the air as though toasting Harry. "Why don't you ask Death when you meet him? I suspect he'll also be able to help you with that."_

 _"_ _Wait, wait, wait," Harry mumbled, turning his wide-eyed gaze back on Lucifer. "_ Death _is real?"_

 _Lucifer gave him a 'are you stupid' look. "You know that God is real, you know that Archangels are real, you know that Demons are real… and you're askin' if Death is real? Wow, you're actually dumber than I thought. Of course he's real, dumbass! Where did you think you were going to get his ring, if he wasn't REAL?"_

 _Harry opened his mouth to reply and then shut it quickly. Indeed, hadn't Gabriel told him just a few hours ago that they needed the four Horsemen's rings to open the cage - and wasn't Death one of them? "Wait, but how the hell do you know about the rings?"_

 _Lucifer smirked at him and then proceeded to roll his eyes in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you, Harrikins? I. Am. You. Of course I know! I am a part of your mind."_

 _They sat in silence for a while after that. Eventually, Harry turned his gaze to the dying embers in the fireplace. This was his mind right? So technically, this was all an illusion too, an illusion created so that his mind could process what was happing. Theoretically, he should be able to manipulate it as he wished. Willing the fireplace to be stocked with fresh wood and a roaring fire, he was actually surprised when suddenly, the ashes were replaced with new, fresh logs of wood. Awesome - his kingdom, his rules._

 _"_ _Why did you do it?" Harry asked, feeling Lucifer's knowing look on him. The Archangel's eyebrows drew together._

 _"_ _Do what?"_

 _Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what."_

 _"_ _You're talking about the Rebellion, the Fall and the inevitable incarceration," Lucifer stated, peering at Harry over his own tumbler. The Archangel sighed deeply, eyes_ _unfocusing_ _slightly as he was transported to the memories of his past. It seemed quite unlike Lucifer, or well, the Lucifer Harry had seen until now._

 _"_ _Family is important to us," Lucifer said after a moment. "To you, to your past lives and it is to me. All I have ever wanted was to protect and love my family."_

 _"_ _Mate, that doesn't mean that you get to kill people for it," Harry replied, tone slightly softer than it had been previously. Lucifer's eyes were glinting as he looked up to gaze at Harry._

 _"_ _The Winchesters do it to protect each other." Suddenly Lucifer sounded like a petulant child explaining to his parents why he'd stolen another child's plaything. Harry rolled his eyes and Lucifer continued: "Dad loved us all - the Angels. And we loved Him beyond anything else and then one day I was called to Him. For the first time since my creation, I was alone with Him. He commanded me to take one of my garrisons and start creating balls of energy and gas - which would one day be stars. My task was to create one ball of light that was brighter and more powerful than the rest - I believe the Humans call it the 'sun'." Harry's eyebrows skyrocketed - Lucifer had jumpstarted the Milky Way?_

 _"The Earth started moving," Lucifer continued. "As did the other planets and we - the Angels - quickly figured out that this source of light was giving the Earth life. Finally, Father decided to reveal us his plan. Fish started crawling out of the sea, mutating into new creatures and new... life. Adam and Eve were the first Humans to walk the Earth, but two Human worshippers and over two thousand Angels weren't enough for Him; he wanted more. So he started creating these… weak little_ rats _-"_

 _"_ _-Watch it," Harry murmured, but he didn't have the heart to actually mean it._

 _"_ _-And they took over Earth. I used to love the Earth, you know. I taught Gabriel to fly somewhere around Africa." All of Lucifer's masks were gone as he spoke of his past. He wasn't that snarky, annoying asshole anymore. "Our Father then commanded us to bow down to the Humans and to love and protect them more than we did our own Creator. Michael," Lucifer snorted. "Was the first to drop to his knees, the wimp. I refused, of course. And when I nudged Eve towards Sin - and honestly, that wasn't my fault, she didn't even know that eating that fruit was forbidden. If anything, it was Adam's and by extension, God's fault that Eve ate the apple. Adam never told Eve about the tree."_

 _"_ _I rebelled again and fought a war against Michael and his principles and I was struck down," Lucifer snarled. "I was struck down for trying to prove my love for my Father and my brothers and sisters!" Lucifer's gaze had dropped to the rug at some point and now snapped back up to meet Harry's… sympathetic gaze._

 _"_ _Look, Lucifer; yeah, I get it, your brothers and your Dad betrayed you. But you did some pretty murderous shit-"_

 _"_ _-And I have atoned for it too!" Lucifer suddenly exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes, suddenly wishing that Lucifer returned to the other slightly_ ** _snarkier_** _self. He couldn't deal with angst like this - his relationship with Ginny during his sixth year had been a lesson enough._

 _"_ _Yeah, obviously, if not we wouldn't be in my mind talking about this crap," Harry said, waving a hand vaguely, gesturing at the room._

 _"_ _He's given you back our wings," Lucifer stated after a moment, all emotion gone from his face. "He took them away when I fell, but I can sense your physical form has wings; he truly has forgiven us."_

 _"_ _Yeah and soon, my complete awareness as Harry will be gone and you'll be able to take over and go back to Heaven," Harry murmured, biting his lip uncertainly. It wasn't that Harry was completely ok with that; far from it. He was just_ tired _of having to deal with all the shit that life threw to him, so if he had the opportunity to actually fade from existence and become Lucifer again... well, he could actually think of worse ways to go._

 _"_ _God," Harry murmured, rubbing a hand against his face. "When will this dream end?"_

 _"_ _Do you want me to pinch you?" Lucifer replied with a smirk, and just like that snarky-Lucifer was back. Harry rolled his eyes and was about to reply when said Archangel actually_ launched _himself onto Harry only to suddenly pinch him. Seconds later, Harry's eyes fluttered open in Bobby Singer's living room._

 _._

"-If you kill him, I swear to you, Winchester, you'll spend the rest of your life - no, eternity - watching your brother die, over and over again," Gabriel was saying, voice a tad deeper than usual and laced with hate. Harry's half-opened eyes slowly widened as his eyes racked over the scene; the Winchesters stood side-by-side, facing Harry. They each held an Angel's sword in their hand. Bobby and Castiel stood behind them, staring at Gabriel grimly. Said Archangel was facing away from Harry, his posture was tense and-

Harry almost gasped as he took in the sight before him. Sprouting out of the Archangel's back were three massive pairs of wings that were so large they didn't even fit in the expansive living room. They were pure gold and as sunlight hit them, Harry swore that each feather on each wing had an individual shade of gold. Said wings were tilted inwards threateningly and Harry instinctually knew that this was and Angel's way of saying 'back the hell off'.

The Humans didn't seem to see them because if something like that had been directed at him, Harry was sure that he would have instantly backed off. He supposed that only Angels could see wings, because when he glanced over at the Angel on Dean's shoulder, he noticed that Castiel seemed to get the message if his fearful expression was any indication. _His_ wings were a dark ebony and were folded behind him; a sign of submission. It seemed that even he, the courageous fool, feared the wrath of the youngest Archangel.

Harry however, let out a loud gasp when his peripheral vision caught sight of his own wings. Unlike Gabriel's, his were pure white and large - so large that the disappeared behind the walls of Bobby's house and gave no indication of ending there. He had three pairs of large wings, the top ones being the primal ones, but Harry instinctually knew that his true form had over six hundred of them.

His gasp seemed to have alerted everyone of his wakeful state, because when he turned to look at the company collected in the room, he winced at the varied expressions of hate and shock on everyone's faces. Both Sam and Dean were staring at him, lips curling with malicious intent. Bobby's expression was almost as stern, but worry graced his wrinkled forehead. Behind them, Harry could see Castiel's wings shaking with excitement and fear; his physical facial expression betrayed nothing.

As for Gabriel; his head had spun around and he was staring at Harry with a mixture of relief… and excitement?

"Oh, you sonovabitch!" Dean exclaimed as his hands tightened on the hilt of his sword and he started to march forwards. He was thrown back several paces by an invisible force before he could even reach Harry and said ex-wizard nodded at Gabriel in thanks. The younger Archangel's lips twitched in a vague but honest smile.

"I am neither a dog, nor a 'son of a female entity'. I have no mother," Harry replied, stretching as he stood up. Everyone stared at him warily as he approached them. Harry's eyes closed briefly as he tested out his new appendages; it felt like cycling after several years of not using a bike, only even more familiar: his wings were an extension of his Grace, a sort of metaphysical manifestation of it anyway. Shock raced through him as he felt one of Gabriel's own wings reach out to rub against his; the Angel equivalent of a hug.

When he reopened his eyes, he noticed that Gabriel's Grace was glowing warmly and that Castiel was regarding them with wide eyes. The Humans were still staring at him with a mixture of hate and wariness.

"I-Is Harry gone?" Sam said, licking his lips. He raised his own sword, no doubt given to him by Castiel. It was a foot soldier's sword - it was unlikely that something like that could kill an Archangel. Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow in answer to Sam's question. The Winchesters cared _now_? After he was supposedly gone and dead?

"I'm still Harry," he replied, and enjoyed the look of shock on everyone's face. "But I remember all of my past lives as a Human - as Lucifer? Not yet." He felt Gabriel's wing freeze in shock for a moment and Harry glanced at him and with one look said 'later'.

"And we should believe you why?" Bobby said, eyes narrowing. He adjusted the grip on the Colt and Harry raised an eyebrow in consideration. So, they'd gotten that back?

Harry shrugged. "Well I don't really care if you believe me or not, truly, I don't care a shit what happens to you lot. As far as I know, you're all deluded opportunists with a hero-complex. Trust me, I know when to recognise one." Sam and Dean exchanged a dark glance at that. "Right now, all I want to do is protect _my family,_ get my memories back and stop the bloody Apocalypse." Harry paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side. He gazed at Sam for a moment and nodded to him in thanks. "Thank you for freeing my Grace, Sam," he said, rolling his shoulders and enjoying the feel of his wings back in their rightful place.

"Oh, trust me, that wasn't intentional," Sam snarled back. Harry pursed his lips and nodded so earnestly that it was almost mocking to anyone else.

"You said you were Lucifer's vessel, didn't you?" Harry said, taking a step towards the man. Instantly, Bobby clocked his gun and the Winchesters raised their swords threateningly. Harry rolled his eyes. Sam didn't give an answer, but the hate in his eyes intensified leading Harry to take that as a yes. "So you should be thankful, _Sammy_ , that Lucifer's Grace didn't take over _you_."

"What are you still doing here, then," Dean said snidely. His grip on his blade was so strong now that his knuckles had turned white. "If you're planning on stopping the Apocalypse and all, why are you here?"

Harry's eyebrows drew closer together and he glanced back at Gabriel. "You didn't tell them about the Rings?" The younger Archangel shrugged vaguely.

"I was a little more concerned by the fact that you were unconscious and that they were trying to murder you."

"I guess you ain't talking about the Rings of Power," Bobby said gruffly, arms still raised and gun still pointing at Harry's heart. ***2**

"The Rings of the Horsemen," Castiel murmured, eyes suddenly bright with understanding. When everyone turned to stare at him, he blushed slightly. "The Four Rings of the Horsemen can open Lucifer's cage in Hell," the Angel explained.

"And you are telling us this, because?" Sam asked, eyes clouding over with confusion. His arm dropped a few inches when he suddenly seemed to realise that Harry wasn't giving them any indication that he was going to attack them.

"Well, we wanna stop the Apocalypse and we need your help getting the Rings," Gabriel explained, moving so that he was standing directly next to Harry and so that their wings were almost fully touching. "Killing Michael, however satisfying, would be pretty impossible. So, we're going to imprison him in Lucifer's cage."

"Oh, Hell no," Dean growled out and then turned to stare at Bobby and Sam who were giving each other considering stares. "Guys, am I the only one here who realises that Lucifer's standing right in front of us and that we can kill him and have this all over with?" Dean exclaimed as he made a grab for the Colt now hanging loosely form Bobby's hand.

"He's not Lucifer quite yet, Dean." Castiel murmured from behind said Human. He nodded over at Harry. "Harry has his Grace but not his memories."

"Yeah and that doesn't make him any less innocent," Dean shot right back.

"Indeed not," Harry murmured quietly and every eye turned back on him. "Lucifer has done some pretty horrifying shit; we all know that. But you have to understand, I am Lucifer from before the Fall, we are really quite alike. I remember him sitting in the Cage and I remember him recognising his sins. His Father released him with the condition that he live through several Human lives and learn to love Humans. I am the last reincarnation of Lucifer and I will get my memories back soon enough…" Harry trailed off, and considered all of them. One of Gabriel's wings curled around Harry's body in silent comfort. "But you have to understand; I won't change much - we are essentially the same person."

"Well that's pretty and all," Dean snarled. "Doesn't change the fact that you're the key to stopping the Apocalypse." Gabriel's body tensed and Harry shot him a look that said 'don't'; the younger Archangel instantly froze. Bobby similarly put a calming hand on Dean's shoulder, silently asking him not to go too far.

"What's your endgame?" Sam said suddenly, tone no longer as hostile as it had been.

"I have no endgame, Sam. I simply seek to find peace again. I was drawn into this conflict when you morons dragged me away with you. Believe me, I'm pretty sure Lucifer wouldn't want it either; right now all we wanna do is stop the Apocalypse and be with our family again."

"But why?" Sam's face was scrunched up in confusion, his voice was also a notch higher. Harry sighed, frustrated.

"Look, how do you think the Apocalypse ends? My death right? Michael kills me and boom; Paradise on Earth. And Angels continue being dicks and lording over everyone," His explanation seemed to make sense to Sam and Bobby because they slowly lowered their weapons.

"I spoke with Michael - before he beat me up of course," Gabriel volunteered and Harry's gaze turned to him, surprised. He'd thought that the Archangel hated them too much to volunteer information so freely. " _His_ endgame is to have an Apocalypse. In fact, he's brainwashing the Angels to believe the same thing. So you either collaborate with us, or we go take one last swim in the Bahamas while you asshats try to find a way to stop Michael, and Raphael and pretty much every other Angel out there that isn't little Cassy." His words seemed to have an effect on Dean because he too slowly lowered his weapon. He exchanged a concerned glance with Sam.

"I don't like it," the elder Winchester murmured to his brother. Sam swallowed uncomfortably.

"This is a war, Dean, we don't have the luxury of caring," the younger Winchester murmured quietly. Harry silently mourned the fact that someone so young could be so bitter and cynical.

Finally, Dean's gaze fixated itself upon Gabriel; he seemed intent on ignoring Harry for the time being. "Ok, how do we do this?"

.

As it turned out, the Winchesters, being the Winchesters, had already somehow gotten hold of War's Ring. Gabriel really, really hated those assholes, but he couldn't deny that they 'closed cases', for want of a better word. Their strategies consisted of opportunism and betting on luck to save their asses; and while Gabriel abhorred such methods, he still respected them just a tiny bit for having been able to survive all of these years.

And of course the two twin Horsemen, Pestilence and Famine, were currently hiding behind sigils and warding; evidently spooked by the fact that their brother's finger along with his ring had been taken away. Which left Death. Gabriel licked his lips uncertainly; he could count the times he'd met Death on one hand and each time had been even less pleasant than the one before that. Currently, the Winchester's plan was to summon the demon Crowley and grill him for information on Death's location.

Gabriel winced slightly at that; he could see how they'd reached that conclusion, but it didn't mean he liked it. Sure, there were plenty of other ways to track down Death, but they were also much more time-consuming and more complicated. As the King of Hell, Crowley surely had at least an inking of where Death could possibly be. That was why they - the Winchesters, Singer, Harry and Gabriel - all stood in Singer's living room, staring the floor where the man in question had aligned several candles with the sigil. A sigil, which Gabriel recognised as a summoning ritual for a Crossroads Demon; which made sense, he supposed, seeing as Crowley had once been such a creature. A bowl had been arranged next to it filled with a plethora of ingredients all soaking in blood.

Bobby then proceeded to throw a lit matchstick into the bowl. Then quietly, almost under his breath, he invoked: " _Et ad congregandum… eos coram me._ "

For a moment or two, nothing happened. But then suddenly, a male figure flickered into existence right in the middle of the Devil's Trap that Sam had painted earlier that afternoon. Crowley looked almost the same as the last time that Gabriel had met him; of course, at the time, Crowley hadn't known that he was in fact, the Archangel Gabriel. Actually, he probably still didn't know.

Even for a Demon, though, Crowley looked pretty but-ass ugly.

As an Angel - and Archangel - Gabriel could always see the true nature of any monster, Demon, Human out there. He could always see the flickering soul of a Human glowing brightly in his abdomen, or the True Form of an Angel which always hovered over the vessel like an avatar of some sort. Demons, however, only held mutilated, disgusting remains of a Human soul which no longer flickered or danced with happiness or emotions. Their truly horrifying characters were displayed on their faces which to someone like Gabriel appeared to be flayed and disgustingly twisted. Oscar Wilde had never been more accurate with his predictions in Dorian Grey. ***3**

Harry - _Lucifer_ \- was standing right next to Gabriel, their shoulders and wings brushing against each other. The younger Archangel smiled at Harry, attempting to give him some semblance of comfort, when the latter let out a soft gasp of shock upon seeing the Demon's face. Harry seemed to have regained most of the memories from his Human lives, but he still didn't remember Lucifer's; he hadn't experienced all of the supernatural things that Lucifer had.

"Bloody hell!" Crowley exclaimed as he saw exactly who had summoned him. The Demon was facing away from the Archangels and was instead glaring at 'Team Free-Will' - plus Singer, of course; he seemed not to have noticed the Archangel's yet. Gabriel's almost perpetual smirk made itself onto his lips as he realised why - he, himself had been suppressing his true nature for centuries now, it came almost without a thought. Harry, however, was consciously reigning in his aura and power, evidently waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself.

"Crowley," Dean greeted coldly, voice a notch deeper than usual as though thinking that that would make him more threatening. Crowley wasn't looking at him though; his eyes were taking in the situation - the Devil's Trap, the grotesque decor in Bobby's house, the Colt.

"Bollocks," The Demon murmured to himself, before straightening and turning his full attention on the Winchesters - and the Colt hanging loosely from Bobby's hand. "I thought I gave you that gun to _kill_ Lucifer? And all I get for my outstanding generosity is a Devil's Trap?!" Crowley growled, voice rising as he reached the end of his self-pitying monologue. Harry shifted a little uncomfortably.

"Well, apparently he's one of six things that gun _can't_ kill." Sam's voice cut through the silence that followed Crowley's silence with surprising coldness.

Gabriel instantly removed all bindings he'd set on his Grace and by extension wings, and sauntered over to Castiel. He smirked, perhaps a little too malignantly as he enjoyed the way that the smirk on Crowley's lips instantly slipped off. The Demon's human face - the vessel's face - turned into that of horror and he attempted to step back from the advancing Archangel, but the magic of the Devil's Trap forced him to remain in his position.

"-How the Hell?" Crowley whispered under his breath, staring at Gabriel, evidently recognising that he looked a lot like the Trickster Loki that he actually knew.

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. "How am I an Archangel? Oh, well, that's actually a really funny story. You see, I was in Scandinavia-" Harry cleared his throat, forcing Gabriel to recognise that his talkative side was coming out again. Crowley's eyes however, had wandered over to Harry.

"Harry Potter?!" The Demon exclaimed, briefly throwing Gabriel. Harry seemed similarly stumped by how Crowley knew his name. Seeing all of the questioning glances on him, Harry shrugged in answer to their unasked questions.

" _The_ Harry Potter?" Crowley reiterated, suddenly grinning. Harry, who was still reigning in his Grace, scratched the back of his neck uncertainly.

"Er - yes. Wait - how the hell does everyone over here know who I am?!" His confused expression prompted Crowley to give an explanation.

"Mate," Crowley started, grinning from ear to ear. "You have _no idea_ how many times your pal Voldemort tried to deal with me. I gotta say, that man has a problem with monologuing about the problems in his life."

Harry, to Gabriel's surprise actually smirked. "Yeah, he did that a lot."

"No more monologuing in Hell, though." Crowley remarked winking at the ex-wizard. Said Archangel actually seemed pleased at that piece of information.

"You princesses done?" Bobby growled out, eyes narrowing. The Demon shot Harry one last, fond stare, before focusing on the Winchesters and Castiel - and Gabriel - again.

"However did you get the _Boy-Who-Lived_ to join your little band of freaks?" Crowley jerked his head at Harry.

"We're not here to chit-chat, Crowley," Dean, who had been surprisingly silent this entire time, said lowly. Crowley gave him a look that said 'fuck, really?'. "Tell us where Death is," the elder Winchester demanded.

Crowley frowned in thought. "Why the bloody hell do you need to know that?"

"That's none of your damn business," Bobby said, a tad too cheerfully as he clocked the Colt and pressed it against Crowley's temple. Gabriel similarly stepped forth, waggling his fingers and raising his hand as though to smite the Demon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Crowley said, eyes wide open in panic and almost physically shrinking under the two threats. "Who said I even know where _he_ is? Or that I would tell you?!" Under his breath, he said something that resembled 'wankers'.

Harry chose that moment to move to stand in front of Crowley and he leaned down slightly, suddenly giving the impression that he was much taller and more intimidating than his physical body should have been able to. Crowley glanced at the three people - the two Archangels and the Human - now crowding around him.

"Lucifer created the Demons, correct?" Harry asked so quietly that Gabriel almost had to strain his ears. The tone in the Archangel's voice was cold and completely unforgiving and for a moment, Gabriel thought he could see that vengeful and completely merciless side of Lucifer, the Archangel. This complete and utter change of character was shocking and terrifying simultaneously. And while Gabriel dearly loved his elder brothers, even he couldn't help but feel intimidated when they got into one of these moods.

Crowley nodded slowly, lower lip trembling involuntarily as Bobby jabbed his gun harder into the Demon's temple.

"So, theoretically, if Lucifer found his vessel, he could just as well, ah-" Harry pretended to look for the correct word to explain himself to add drama. Gabriel would have snorted, if he were not so frightened himself. "-destroy all of you abominations."

Again, Crowley gave some sort of half-nod and his eyes connected with Harry's.

In that moment, said Archangel released his tight hold over his Grace. Instantly, the temperature in the room sunk to at least ten degrees celcius, the lights flickered and two large shadows - Harry's wings - appeared behind Harry, flaring in their majestic glory. Gabriel, as an Archangel and Crowley as a Demon, could see their true appearance - not just the shadows that the Humans could see and frankly, it was a beautiful yet terrifying sight.

"L-Lucifer," Crowley breathed, eyes wide. Bobby's tight hold over his gun had slackened when Lucifer's Grace had filled the room and he had taken a few steps back in shock. Gabriel had similarly retracted his own arm. The Demon let out a terrified, uncertain chuckle. "The perfect little, light-magic Wizard - the Destroyer of Evil, Boy-Who-Lived… _is_ Lucifer?" He said more to himself than anyone else.

Gabriel also indulged himself in a short laugh. When everyone turned to stare at him he shrugged. "What? You gotta appreciate the irony."

Harry, however either wasn't amused or simply didn't want to show any emotion in front of Crowley because his cold stare rolled off Gabriel and focused itself on the Demon. Said Demon was by now almost kneeling on the floor as he stared up at his creator.

"You will tell me, _Demon_ , how to find Death. Even God doesn't know what I'll do to you if you refuse to indulge my curiosity," Harry threatened. Gabriel very suddenly realised that these were all empty threats. Harry was by nature, somewhat gentler and even though he was Lucifer, there was no way that he would actually waste his time and energy torturing a Demon. Besides, this was Lucifer _without_ his memories as Lucifer; it wasn't like he actually remembered his talents. Crowley, however seemed to buy it because he cowered even lower.

"There is - there's a way," he mumbled. Behind Harry, Gabriel noticed the Winchesters perk up, eyes suddenly focusing on the Demon and not on Harry. "Well, it's just a rumour; but there's a tale about these three brothers Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus somehow tricked Death into giving up three items precious to him. Apparently if you summon them, you become the 'Master of Death' and can summon him." A very small smile graced Harry's lips and suddenly he resembled Harry again. Crowley took this as a sign that he was off the hook and let out a long, relieved sigh.

"Items - what items?" Sam asked, taking a step forwards but glancing at Harry warily. Gabriel couldn't blame him. After that oscar-worthy performance, anyone would hesitate to be near Harry.

"The Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak." Everyone's gazes snapped to Harry, who'd spoken. That same, small smile was still present on his thin, crooked lips and Gabriel found himself suddenly struck with the realisation that Harry knew the story already and most-probably from the wizarding world.

"Yeah…" Crowley said slowly, blinking at Harry uncertainly. Said Archangel's wings folded back neatly, but even then they were majestic. He gently scratched a small line through the Devil's Trap, effectively canceling it, and giving Crowley back his freedom.

"You're my little bitch now," Harry said slowly, eyes dancing with mischievousness, suddenly seeming more like Harry than he had in days. "So don't you dare double-cross me, Crowley." He smirked slightly. "We gotta talk about Hell at some point. Catch you later." Harry pressed a finger against Crowley's forehead and the latter suddenly disappeared without a sound.

Then, the ex-wizard spun around, facing the entire company and grinned genially. He clasped his hands together and stared at all of them while he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"So; summoning Death?" He exclaimed and winked at Gabriel who was still staring at his not-quite-brother with slack-jawed amazement. "Not one I've done before!"

* * *

Sorry, y'all no preview this time - I haven't written the chapter yet! I'll give you a small hint:

Death will make a cameo next chapter *wink*

* * *

 **So yeah, I have a bit of a wing-kink. But don't worry, this is not slash (or het). I just thought that since Gabriel, Lucifer, Raphael and Michael were the only things that existed(for several eons), I imagine that they would become quite close. A sort of closeness that even a human relationship wouldn't be able to mimic. so yeah, I've always imagined Gabriel as the clingy little brother who you can't help but spoil.**

 **So; Harry's two personalities are starting to mesh together. Yaaayy.**

 ***1: I am using Nick to represent Lucifer. I thought of using Sam, but that would be disturbing. Don't question it, just roll with it. XD Also, his inability to properly sit in chairs is a reference to Mark Pellegrino's inability to correctly sit in chairs. seriously, if you watch spn cons on youtube you might notice that he literally never sits like a normal person. *sigh* he's so awesome.**

 ***2: The Rings of Power are a reference to LOTR, if you don't know what they are, I pity you a bit.**

 ***3: Dorian Grey (by Oscar Wilde) is one of my favourite books of all time. It's about this guy who sells his soul (sort of, if you read it - you'll get it) and a painting of him becomes the representation of his soul. He then starts becoming more and more hedonistic and corrupted and at some point, the soul (the painting) starts to rot and erode.**

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **Chibibluemouse:** *blushes furiously* well, I try? XD but tbh, I'm always in a state of panic cause I'm a bit of a perfectionist so when I post a new chapter I reread it the next day and instantly start completely restructuring sentences XD Anyway, thank you so much, that is an incredible compliment. *blows kiss*

 **Jaden Xiang:** Well, Chuck is going to remain... ah, not gonna say. Spoilers and stuff XD But, yeah, they're all prejudiced - Angels and Humans alike - glad you spotted that! Thank you!

 **MJFFC:** *grin* well, I gotta keep y'all interested somehow, right XD Or maybe I'm just a teensy bit evil. Anyway, thank you!

 **AnotherGuest:** Hahaha yep! IDENTITY CRISIS XD Anyway, thank you!

 **Guest:** Hahah yeah, I agree, it's kinda sad. Although, I find that Sam and Dean are less and less racist (as in, racist in the sense that they abhor creatures/monsters on principle) as time goes on... Anyway, thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 8

**American jargon is pretty hard to write… Hopefully any American's reading this aren't too offended by my lack of language skills.**

 **Also: I can't even express how much I love reading through the comments section; urgh, I look at it at least twice a day and I just end up smiling so much that my cheeks hurt. Y'all are so nice. Also, I'm always happy to receive prompts for one shots, don't hesitate to drop me an (anonymous?) ask on tumblr (tardisdementor . /tumblr)**

 **Also, school is keeping me really busy (seriously: I have to write two ten page essays till Monday!) and I should be doing that and not writing 7-8k-long fanfiction chapters... *sigh* when my muse slaps me in the face, who am I to ignore her?**

* * *

The Humans were restless. Harry could _feel_ their unsettled minds gently dipping in and out of sleep; their souls shone brightly but they seemed nervous and neurotic. He could see - or rather, feel - their souls and the bodies they inhabited settling into unrestful sleep in the living quarters above him and Gabriel.

"Try to ignore them," his little brother said, eyes never leaving the cards spread out between his fingers. When he _did_ glance up at Harry and noticed his bemused expression, he attempted to elaborate. "Their souls. Humans almost literally wear their 'hearts' on their sleeves. As Angels we can always see the state of their soul, whether it's restless, at peace or in love."

Harry made a quiet 'ah' sound of understanding and nodded once, filing away that information for later use. "Hey, Cas, it's your turn." Said Angel was sitting right next to Gabriel, blinking uncertainly at the cards he held in his hands.

"I do not understand," Castiel finally said, showing his cards to Gabriel. Harry rolled his eyes and set his own down - this was going to take a while. _Again_. "Why are four 'kings' so advantageous?" Castiel continued rambling on.

"Dude," Gabriel exclaimed as he stared down at the cards Castiel was fanning out in his left hand. "You got a 'four of a kind' with _kings_ ," Gabriel said, eyes wide. He took a handful doritos from Cas' pile and dumped them in the middle of the table. "Hey, Harry," Gabriel whispered to Harry. Castiel was still intently staring at his cards. "Poor kid's lost all his 'chips'. Let him win this hand. He deserves to win back his doritos."

Harry rolled his eyes and pretended _not_ to _know_ what Castiel had. So when they'd all bet their doritos and it was revealed that Harry had three of a kind and Gabriel a bluff, he and Gabriel allowed Castiel to win back a bunch of doritos. They watched, with silent fondness as Castiel's wings fluttered victoriously and a bright smile graced his vessel's face.

"Will you look at that!" Gabriel exclaimed, thumping a hand on Castiel's back in typical big-brother fashion. "You're learning, bro!" Castiel's beaming smile lit up the entire room. Harry traded his own small, conspiratory curve of the lips with Gabriel. Shuffling the cards one last time, Harry passed them over to the ex-Trickster so that he could deal the next hand. A resounding crunch, coming from Castiel's direction alerted them all to the fact that said Angel had started munching on the doritos… _again._ ***1**

 _"_ Mate, how often do I have to tell you: _Don't. Eat. The. Poker. Chips?!"_ Harry exclaimed, laughing as he did so. Castiel blushed slightly and let the dorito that was pinched between his thumb and forefinger fall back to the conjured poker table. However, their laughter died down after a few moments, when Castiel's gaze flickered back to the sleeping souls and a sombre atmosphere overtook them.

"We should be attempting to find the other rings," Castiel finally murmured in that odd, gravelly voice, suddenly so unlike his previous disposition. "Not _gambling_."

"Aw, you make it sound like it's blasphemy! Besides the Winchesters made us promise not to do anything without them," Gabriel muttered unhappily, shuffling the cards and then setting them down with a sigh - suddenly the light-hearted mood was gone; they wouldn't be playing any more poker tonight. The younger Archangel took a swig from his Waldhaus beer while Harry rolled his eyes at him. ***2**

"You're not really known for playing by the rules," Harry pointed out and Gabriel blew a raspberry at him.

"Yeah, but you don't wanna betray Dean's trust, right?" The younger Archangel said suggestively, gaze swinging back at Castiel. The Angel frowned in confusion, then, finally shook his head.

"How 'bout we go bowling?" Gabriel asked suddenly.

"Nah, we'll just get drunk again," Harry said, blinking a sudden tiredness out of his eyes. Apparently, gaining centuries worth of memories was kind of exhausting.

"Well, I'm not hanging 'round this bat-cave - literally - all night," Gabriel said and gulped down the rest of his beer. ***3**

"Dean will wake soon. He usually sleeps until seven and Sam wakes up at six - he's a morning person," Castiel commented, causing both Archangel's to physically turn to stare at him. He blushed under two twin incredulous stares.

"Mate, that's kinda creepy," Harry said, nodding earnestly.

Gabriel chuckled. "What, you stand there and stare at them all night?" The younger Archangel teased. Harry felt a very sudden urge to ruffle Cas' hair and instead settled for patting a wing against the Angel's own folded ones.

"Why d'you hang around them, anyway?" Gabriel asked, snapping his fingers as he did so. Instantly, they were all laying in piles of beanbags. Castiel shuffled uncomfortably in his - he was already uncomfortable enough in chairs.

"The Winchesters?" Castiel said after a moment. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"No, your padawans," he added sarcastically. Seeing Castiel's bemused blinking he rolled his eyes again, but there was a fond smile playing on his lips. ***4**

"He means Sam and Dean," Harry explained, shooting his younger brother a look that said 'behave, or else'. Gabriel coughed uncomfortably and rushed a hand through his disheveled hair to make it more presentable. Harry thought it was adorable.

"They are my friends," Castiel explained as he glanced down at his interlocked hands with confusion and deliberation. He seemed locked in a conflict of his own making: The Angel attempted several times to open his mouth to say something, but then let out sighs of exasperation when he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You love them," Gabriel said suddenly, eyes filled with sudden understanding. Castiel's gaze briefly flickered at the youngest Archangel and after a moment started nodding.

"I don't see the problem," Harry started after a moment. "Father commanded us to love them - the Humans, right? And you do - you are fulfilling our Father's will, so what's the problem?" Harry winced as the harsh words spilled from his mouth; he had never been very talented with the usage of words. He wasn't a Hufflepuff.

"Our brothers and sisters don't love the Humans," Castiel said hesitantly but seeing the encouraging expressions on his brothers' faces, he continued: "Our Father commanded it, yes, but they have, for lack of a better word, 'fallen _out_ of love'. They do not find delight in Human creations or behaviour. They call the Humans blasphemous and weak and spoiled and insignificant."

Ah, Harry saw the problem now: Castiel had changed. Two or so years with the Winchesters had given him a different perspective on Humans; he no longer saw them as weak or insignificant, if he had ever. Humans had caused him to start second-guessing decisions, thoughts and commands. Castiel was, Harry thought with silent delight, finally gaining free-will and that was all thanks to the Winchesters; that was why the Angel felt such binding loyalty towards them.

Gabriel seemed to have come to the same realisation because he gently skimmed his golden wings over Castiel's, attempting to comfort him. "You are afraid that you are becoming disloyal," Gabriel summarised and for a moment, Castiel licked his lips in uncertainty before finally nodding in agreement.

"Do you think, Castiel-" It didn't go unnoticed by Harry nor Castiel that Gabriel had - for the first time - used the Angel's full name and not some sort of twisted nickname. "That maybe there's a reason why we," Gabriel gestured at Harry at himself and lastly at Castiel. "The only remaining Angels with any semblance of free-will, have been brought together? I'm not saying that Dad has some sort of bigger plan or something; he's retired and probably playing golf with Carmen Electra - honestly I can't blame him. I'm just saying that there's a reason why Lucifer's been brought out of the cage without his memories intact. Maybe, just maybe, we're supposed to teach them - the other Angels - about blasphemy and sinning but also about love and hate and all of the things that come along with being a human. Y'know, free will." ***5**

Gabriel took a deep sigh and impatiently started tapping his pointer-finger against his knee. "Cos, y'know, the Human's _are_ better than us: God's ultimate, flawed masterpiece."

Harry groaned and threw his head back, laughing. When his burst of laughter had been reduced to intermittent chuckling he noticed that his younger brothers were staring at him with twin looks of incomprehension. Harry chuckled again and vaguely waved his hands in Gabriel's general direction. "That sounded _so_ American-movie. I bet if we had a larger audience everyone would slowly start standing up to give you a standing ovation."

Gabriel blew him another raspberry.

"You're saying that I should rebel?" Castiel asked after a moment with such naivety and innocence that it made Harry feel like some ancient monster - which considering he was Lucifer was actually pretty accurate.

"Cas, Gabe's not saying anything of the sort. Lucifer rebelled and look at where that brought him - us - me, urgh, whatever." Harry took a deep sigh. "Independent thought - that's what he's saying. The Winchesters helped you find the building blocks; it's up to you now to find a way to use them; _that's_ free will _._ "

"Man, we're so angsty," Gabriel exclaimed suddenly, snapped his fingers and conjured a bag full of rainbow candy. However, before anyone could find a reply to that, K-9, who had been let out into the yard earlier on, started barking, loud and clear. For a moment, nothing happened, and then Harry felt a new presence invade his senses.

He'd gotten pretty used to the three Human souls sleeping above them, K-9's soul, which was interestingly enough, saturated with Gabriel's Grace and the two Angels keeping him company. Meaning that suddenly feeling a new presence in his immediate vicinity was pretty jarring. With one silent command; a glance at the two Angels who had automatically turned to stare at him in obedience, their military instincts making themselves known, he commanded Castiel to stay inside and Gabriel to come outside with him.

They exchanged a concerned stare but seemed to agree with their older brother. With a nod, Gabriel grabbed hold of Harry's shoulder and transported them to the yard. They crouched behind an overturned car and Gabriel's small corgi came running to them. K-9 wagged his tail happily and his owner impatiently patted him on the head.

"You gotta teach me how to fly like that, Gabe. I don't remember how," Harry whispered suddenly and for a brief moment, he almost saw the Archangel smirk.

"We should disguise ourselves, brother," Gabriel murmured back and for a moment, Harry was taken back. This was markedly the first time that his little brother had actually addressed him like that. However, he forced himself not to dwell upon that fact for too long and instead quickly reigned in his Grace.

"I can feel the Angel," Harry whispered and risked a glance over the car. Indeed, an Angel - a Seraph - in a female Vessel stood in the middle of the small clearing, eyes narrowed as she took the salvage yard in. She was partly obscured by the shadows that the night provided. But even an Angel couldn't shy away from the moon's light. Her wings were large; she had two pairs, and they were a dark grey. A soldier, then.

Gabriel had been telling him wistful and nostalgic stories of what Heaven had been like before Lucifer's Fall: it had been, according to him, beautiful to witness. There had been a choir, Angels that could sing so beautifully that even Michael would get goosebumps. There had been Angels strictly reserved for Earth; they would shape it, creating mountains and lakes where they were needed. There had been Angels responsible for order in Heaven and there had been Angels reserved strictly for military use. These Angels' wings were dangerous, sharply cut and they were mostly dark; mainly because aesthetics wasn't really a key issue in the army.

And the Angel that had appeared in Bobby's property was one such Angel.

Harry was about to turn to Gabriel and ask him whether he recognised her, when he heard a distinct 'whoosh' and the Archangel in question reappeared a few paces in front of the intruder. He was grinning cockily at her.

"Anael," He greeted, a small smile playing on his lips. 'Anael' blinked at him in shock, as his majestic, golden wings unfurled behind him, reaching beyond the small 'clearing' of cars that they were standing in.

"Gabriel," she whispered in shock, eyes widening and wings fluttering in shock. Harry bit his lip uncertainly, watching as she dropped her hand and a long, thin silver blade dropped out of her sleeve.

"Puh-lease," Gabriel said, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You know that can't even injure me." He paused for a moment, considering her. "It's not like you even wanna kill me, Anael."

"I go by Anna now," she said slowly, eyes never straying from Gabriel's own golden ones. "I'm not here to kill you, Gabriel." Said Archangel's eyebrows drew into a small smile and then he crossed his arms.

"So what are you here for, then, _Anna_?" The Angel's eyes briefly, involuntarily flickered to the upper windows of Bobby's house, where the Humans still slept. Gabriel's eyes widened in shock. "You're here for the _Winchesters_?"

Anael - Anna - licked her lips as she mulled over her next words. "Sam Winchester has to die," she said, her voice heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry, we have no choice. He's Lucifer's vessel. If he and Michael flight, it's all over."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and started pacing around her. "Well, y'know, I hate them as much as the next witch or vampire - trust me, they're assholes." He was almost standing directly behind her now. "'Sides, it's too late anyway."

Anna spun around in shock, shoulders tense. From his position behind the car, Harry couldn't really see her face, but he imagined that it was riddled with shock and horror. "Sam said yes?" Her voice was very suddenly very weak. Deciding that this was as good a moment as any, Harry released his tight hold on his Grace and let it swamp the immediate area.

Almost instantly, Anna's head spun around in his general direction and her wings spread out in preparation to flee; they were shaking with fear. Smirking slightly at the immense reaction he got out from people, Harry let his three pairs of wings appear and he stepped out from behind the car. The Seraph's eyes widened - if possible - even more and her jaw popped open. Her hand slackened and the blade tumbled to the ground with a blunt _thump_.

"No he didn't even get the chance to," Harry said pleasantly, in answer to her question. This seemed to shock her into motion because she tumbled to the ground and blindly threw her hands around in search for her Angel's sword. Once her hand was firmly wrapped around the hilt, she scrambled to her feet and started backing away from him, just as Harry started advancing on her and Gabriel.

"Lucifer," she whispered, but unlike her earlier whisper to Gabriel, this one was laden with malice and hate. Harry winked at her.

"I'm not quite Alice yet." ***6**

Her lip trembled and she weakly turned to Gabriel for support but the other Archangel just shrugged at her, unwrapped a red sucker and popped it into his mouth. Amusement played brightly in his eyes. As for Anna - well, her reaction was a little less passive. Contradicting her fear and fight-or-flight response, she lunged at him, attempting to jab him right in the heart, but years of gruelling quidditch practice had left Harry with relatively good reflexes and he easily side-stepped the attack.

With one swift motion, his hand shot out and grabbed hold of her wrist and tightening his hand so strongly around that limb, she was forced to once more relinquish her hold on the blade.

"You will listen to me when I speak to you," he hissed into her ear as his wings formed a blinding and threatening cocoon of whiteness around them. When her body and wings finally stopped flailing around and her body slackened, he finally released his tight hold on her and withdrew his wings. Anna almost dropped to the ground, legs buckling beneath her as she tried to keep standing under the pressure of two Archangels' Grace.

Gabriel sighed almost fondly and snapped his fingers. Instantly, they were back in Bobby's house, lying on the beanbags. Castiel's eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene and instantly launched himself to Anna's side.

"Castiel…?" Anna's voice cut through the steely silence and after a moment, he nodded formally and seeing that she was alright, moved away from her proximity.

"You are alright," he stated, tone, as usual exceptionally formal and serious, but his eyes flickered accusingly at the two Archangels as though to say 'I was expecting her to be hurt'.

"Well 'nough chit-chat, you lovebirds," Gabriel proclaimed suddenly, wagging his finger at Cas and Anna. The latter Angel was however not engaging in any sort of banter with anyone, instead she stared at Harry with an undisguised mixture of shock, hate, fear and betrayal.

"W-why is _he_ here?" She asked, gulping in fear. Her gaze never strayed away from Harry.

" _Harry,_ " Gabriel started. "Is here because he wants to derail the Apocalypse. He's not gonna fight Michael."

The name seemed to have some sort of jumpstart button-effect on Anna because she tore her eyes away from Harry and turned to stare uncomprehendingly at the youngest Archangel instead. "…Harry?" She questioned, her voice weak.

"Yes," Gabriel said patiently. "Long story short: Dad reincarnated Luci as a Human." Anna's eyes wandered over to Harry's large wings that didn't even fit into the house and sighing, Gabriel elaborated further. "Then, Harry here regained his Grace and remembered all of his past lives as a Human. Apparently, while his make-shift soul was moulding itself back with his Grace, he had a conversation with Lucifer who said that he would regain his memories as… well, Lucifer, when the time was right."

Anna bit her lip uncertainly and glanced over at Harry as though seeking confirmation. Said ex-wizard gave her an awkward smile which resembled a grimace; this didn't really seem to reassure her. "And you're sure he isn't…" She trailed off, suddenly biting the inside of her cheek, apparently thinking that she'd said something out of line.

Harry let out a snort. "You're asking if I'm some homicidal maniac about to start waging a war or something?" Seeing Anna's hesitant nod Harry rolled his eyes. "Ok, look - it's Anna isn't it?" A nod. "Well, look at it this way: When Lucifer Fell, God personally ripped out his Grace and wings and threw him into the Cage, right?" Another nod. "Well then, _Anna_ , surely Lucifer - I - must have done something right down there to be reincarnated with these, right?" His wings fluttered behind him, and flickers of beautiful morning light were reflected onto all surfaces.

Hesitantly, Anna gave them a nod and seemed to relax a tiny bit. "I came to kill Sam, believing that Lucifer hadn't found a vessel yet. I'm glad I won't have to kill him," she said slowly. Her eyes kept flickering back to Harry as though afraid that he would attack her any moment.

"You would… kill Sam to stop the Apocalypse?" Castiel butted in and Harry suddenly remembered that the Angel hadn't been outside with him and Gabriel earlier on.

"Well if that didn't work, I was going to go back in time and… marginalise his family before he was even born," she continued meekly and Castiel winced.

"Castiel tells me here that you were imprisoned in Heaven?" Harry silently congratulated his brother for avoiding a hot debate that could have started between Anna and Castiel.

"Yeah; lowest levels too, a bit of an overkill," she said with a sardonic laugh. Gabriel and Cas exchanged a sharp, concerned glance.

" _The_ lowest levels?" Castiel's eyes were wide as he spoke and something resembling hesitance and suspiciousness had creeped into his voice. "How did you get out?"

"I broke out like the others," she answered, voice finally steady. Castiel and Gabriel exchanged another series of short, concerned looks.

"Hel-lo?!" Harry exclaimed, waving his hand around as though he were back in McGonagall's class. "I may be an Archangel but I don't remember shit - what the hell are the lowest levels and why is that bad?"

Gabriel turned his gaze back on Harry. "The lowest levels of Heaven's prison is a place where they put the worst Angels away. Angels like… Gadreel; also Angels that once fell as it is - technically - a sin in the eyes of an Angel."

"And Anna somehow _broke out_ of this prison?" Harry questioned skeptically.

"No one escapes from Heaven's dungeons," Castiel murmured, his bright eyes focusing back on Anna. "They must have let you leave-"

"But to what end!?" She exclaimed very suddenly. "Why would they let me out if they knew I was be going to kill Sam Winchester? Surely that's in Heaven's favour." Harry and Gabriel exchanged a long, considering glance; finally, Gabriel jabbed his head at Harry as though to say 'you explain'.

Harry took a deep breath and leaned forwards, closer to Anna and tried to ignore her flinch. "Heaven's been manipulating the Angels. All of 'em. Michael's searching for Dean - his True Vessel - and he's sent out 'agents'. Hell, he even uses Jehovah's Witnesses as spies for his cause."

Anna gave him a long searching look and Harry hoped that for once, his small innocent face would somehow manage to convince her that he was completely earnestly telling the truth. Finally, she nodded once, accepting it as the truth.

"That's it? No resistance? I thought you would take more convincing," Castiel commented, a happy smile curving the corners of his lips upwards. Anna smirked at him, finally settling into a more confident attitude.

"Oh, dear Cas. Don't forget, I was your superior once - I wasn't quite born yesterday."

"You said that you weren't the only one that escaped…" Gabriel trailed off, eyebrows rising as he spoke. Anna gently nodded.

"I wasn't the only one. The rest walk the Earth now, uncertain on whether they should follow Michael or not." She licked her lips as the collective pressure of the gazes of two Archangels and a foot soldier settled themselves on her.

"There are others?" Harry questioned after a moment, eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. "Others that escaped and can think for themselves?" Gabriel's wings shuddered with excitement and he turned to Harry, eyes wide as his mouth opened to propose an idea.

Harry beat him to it as he realised exactly what his younger brother wanted to propose. Angrily, Harry stood up, suddenly very aware that his Grace was flaring and that his wings had completely unfurled in a threatening position. " _No_ , Gabriel." His voice was cold, unusually so and the lack of Gabriel's nickname only seemed to accentuate this. Harry stalked to the window, turning his back on his fellow brothers and sister. "We are _not_ going down that road again, brother. We _will_ not amass another army with independent Angels. Last time, almost half of Heaven was exterminated," he growled out.

"Think about it, Luci-" The nickname slipped out before Gabriel could prevent it and Harry shot him a brief glare of distaste - he wasn't Lucifer quite yet, Gabriel had no right to already imagine him as his brother. For a moment, the younger Archangel seemed to falter, but then he pressed on. "These are Angels - like us - who can think independently. They have free will - is that not what our Father wants us to pursue? That's the reason he brought you back, Harry. Hey, Anna - how many of Charlie's Angels do you think broke out?" ***7**

No one laughed at the joke; the atmosphere was much to tense and dark for it to be funny. Besides, it wasn't like muggle pop culture was something the Angels were collectively, in general, good at. "Uh, forty or fifty. Sixty tops," Anna replied

"You are talking of a rebellion, Gabriel!" Castiel said harshly, and Harry briefly entertained the idea of telling him off for being disrespectful to Gabriel. He supposed, some of those old habits of hierarchy were starting to leak out from Lucifer's Grace and into his mind that still hung onto the hope that he was Human.

"Not a rebellion, or a civil-war," Gabriel said, suddenly sounding very enthused. Harry, who was still facing away from the Angels, tucked his hands into his pockets and bowed his head in thought. "I'm talking of a Civil Rights Movement. Lucifer'll be our Martin Luther King." ***8**

Harry's laugh was sardonic and when he turned around to face the Angels, he saw that Anna was actually entertaining the idea. She was still sitting next to Cas, Gabriel had stood up and was staring at Harry expectantly. "Mate," Harry began, deflating slightly, anger abating. "I'm not sure you can compare a Baptist Minister with… Satan." Gabriel snorted, but Harry ignored him and pressed on. "'Sides it's not like we're an oppressed race."

"No, no, no - I don't mean that!" Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh. "Think of it more like the Angels' Enlightenment. Humans had that and everything turned out peachy."

"I wouldn't call several revolutions and several millions of deaths over the span of the next few centuries 'peachy'," Harry pointed out and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"You wish to elucidate the Angels? To teach them of free will?" Castiel murmured, gazing up at Gabriel with something akin to… admiration? Anna was actually nodding along.

"I don't like it," Harry said more to himself than anyone else. He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and when he looked up, he saw Gabriel's golden eyes proverbially 'drilling into his very soul'.

"We don't have the luxury of caring," Gabriel said quietly, unknowingly reiterating Sam's own words from the night before - before they had summoned Crowley.

.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam groaned as he grabbed a suspiciously clean bowl from the cupboard and filled it up with Captain Crunch breakfast cereal. Harry and Gabriel were sitting at the table in the kitchen, both sipping hot beverages. Gabriel's was, of course, a hot chocolate with so much sugar that Harry honestly thought that a more apt name would be 'liquid caramel'.

"You're actually starting _another_ rebellion?" Sam continued as he attempted to massage his tired face with his long fingered hands. "Isn't that what got Lucifer kicked out of Heaven in the first place?"

"It's not a full-scale rebellion," Gabriel attempted to defend. "It's more like-"

"A 'movement', Gabriel. Heard you the first and second and third times," Sam muttered as he dropped into an old, rickety chair. It wobbled for a second or two.

"So Cas and Anna are recruiting the other junkless convicts?" Dean summarised, looking surprisingly calm as he sat down next to Sam, drinking nothing but a mug of steaming coffee. His personality probably wasn't awake yet, judging by the unfocused look in his eye, anyway.

Gabriel and Dean continued bickering, trading insults until slowly, the conversation grew more heated and offensive. But knowing that his brother wouldn't do anything too drastic (not while Harry sat at his side, practically drooping a heavy wing over his shoulders to keep him in place) Harry's thoughts wandered.

Junkless. That was what Dean had said. Essentially that was true about any Angel, meaning that Harry too, was technically… genderless. It was odd, he supposed, to think of yourself as… gender-neutral, that is, after a lifetime of believing you were a guy. Digging into the memories of his past lives, he discovered that a few of them had been female and he almost laughed out loud when he realised that not even magic could replicate something like this. Hermione would be furious to know that he had so blatantly managed to swerve around the Rules of Magic.

Then again, she'd also be furious that he never told her about being an _Angel of the bloody Lord_.

"Hey, dude - yo, Harry?" Said Archangel's eyes shot up to meet Dean's expectant ones. The hunter was staring at him imploringly, as though he'd just asked something and was waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, um, sorry, I was having an identity crisis." He waved his hand carelessly and forced a look of sardonic politeness onto his face. "But please, _do_ go on."

" _God,_ even ex-human Angels are dicks," Dean said, rolling his eyes. Harry felt Gabriel stiffen beside him and he gently placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as though to say 'shaddup'. The Archangel's lips thinned and he crossed his arms in the universal gesture of 'hmpf, ok, but I don't like it'.

Glancing between Dean, Harry and Gabriel and their glaring match, Sam uncertainly cleared his throat, trying to defuse the tense situation somewhat. "Dean was just asking you about the - erm-"

"Deathly Hallows?" Harry prodded, raising an eyebrow and giving the Winchesters such a snotty look that would make any Slytherin proud. "Yeah, Gabe and I retrieved them while you two stooges were asleep." ***9**

"Ok! Great - then we can do this now?" Sam asked, eyes widening and a small smile curving on his lips. He looked much like K-9 when he was offered food.

"Dude," Dean groaned, giving his brother the most withering glare he could. "It's like seven am. I need my coffee before we ' _Spanish inquisition_ ' the Sandman." ***10**

.

"…I swear," Dean was saying as Bobby prepared the ritual that Crowley had said would be in one of his books. The two Archangels stood a little to the side, whispering to each other and cackling maliciously every now and then. "If he's screwed us over _again_ , I swear, I'll-"

"-You'll what?" Harry - Lucifer - interrupted him sharply, casting a cold glare that could freeze every damn bottle of beer lying around Bobby's place. Dean gulped soundlessly and felt the sudden urge to step away. Instead he met _Lucifer's_ gaze with equal amounts of determination, which was mostly fuelled by fear.

"Hm?" Lucifer continued, cocking his head to the side in mock interest. Dean's lips remained shut as he saw Sam shooting him 'shut the fuck up' looks over Bobby's shoulder. Indeed, that was probably the best course of action. Right now, the Archangels needed them and he and Sammy needed the Archangels to retrieve the Rings, it wouldn't do to anger them.

Seeing that Dean was backing down, a small, self-satisfied, triumphant smile appeared on Lucifer's lips. Dean hated it instantly. "I told him yesterday, didn't you hear? Crowley's _my_ little bitch. You dare do anything and _you're_ the dead one, capiche?"

The temperature in the room didn't drop, shadows of wings didn't appear on the walls - bookcases - behind Lucifer. His eyes weren't blazing with power or sadistic lust; no, something much more intimidating hung in the air. There was this calm seriousness and _truthfulness_ about Lucifer thatwould ever be able to. There was an utter promise in his words and everyone realised it.

Bobby had briefly frozen up, probably too afraid for Dean to continue tossing herbs here and there. Gabriel provided as the proverbial Angel and he gently reached out, grasping Lucifer's forearm with surprising tenderness. When Lucifer's earnest gaze swung around to meet Gabriel's, he seemed to remember himself and something unspoken was communicated between them. All of a sudden, he was that sassy and properly British version of Harry Potter.

Bobby cleared his throat uncomfortably and gestured at the large bowl dominating half of his desk. "I'm all finished on my part," he said lowly. His eyes were raking over the Archangels curiously. "All that's left are the Deathly Hallows."

Wordlessly, Lucifer reached into his pocket and withdrew a large silvery-looking cloth that just seemed to flow like a mixture of silk and water. Also, Dean was pretty friggin' sure that that large-ass _cloak_ shouldn't have been able to fit into Lucifer's trouser pocket. He passed this cloak over to Sam who stared at it reverently and Dean rolled his eyes; hashtag, nerd-alert. "The Invisibility Cloak," Lucifer murmured, gazing at it with fondness and something akin to sadness.

Next, Lucifer dug into his other pocket and pulled out a fifteen-inch piece of wood. For a moment, Dean thought it was a joke and scoffed loudly. When Lucifer's cold gaze once more settled on him, causing shivers to rise up his spine, Dean decided that the second oldest Archangel probably didn't _kid._ "The Elder Wand. The most powerful magical weapon ever created. I am it's master."

Gabriel shook his head with a type of fondness that only brothers could feel towards each other. "Only you, Luci, only you." It didn't go remiss that Gabriel had used _that_ nickname; Dean and Sam exchanged a surprised look - after all, _Lucifer_ had been pretty sure to tell 'em all that he was to be called Harry for now, because, as he said, he abhorred his true nature. Said Archangel passed the wand over to Sam who carefully - as though he was handling an atomic bomb - placed it on the table next to the folded cloak.

Finally, Lucifer tugged at something on his hand and suddenly, very suddenly, a ring appeared on his hand. Dean blinked in surprise, then frowned; he hand't noticed that ring until now. It was large, and bulky; it had a very unrefined look to it. But at it's centre, sat a large not inexpensive-looking obsidian stone. "And finally, the Resurrection Stone."

Apparently noticing the Winchesters' sudden interest in the third and last Hallow, Lucifer smirked at them. "Not exactly what you're thinking," he said, teasing them spitefully. His wandering gaze rolled over the three Humans standing in the small living room and he smirked again as though he knew exactly how much they all wanted to see their dead loved ones.

Sammy held onto that Hallow longer than he did to the rest and Dean looked away uncomfortably when he instantly remembered all of the people they had failed… all of the times _he_ had failed his little brother. Yeah, he'd done some poor choices too, but at the end of the day, _he_ was the older brother, _he_ was supposed to take care of his brother.

"Well, then," Bobby said with a small huff and watched Sam with beady eyes as the latter placed the Ring onto the table, between the cloak and the wand. "I ain't getting any younger, so I say we put this rodeo on the road."

For some reason, Lucifer, even without his memories, had an authoritarian streak in him. He stood with military precision and intensity - something that could only be muscle memory - and his countenance was almost as serious as Cas', but there was a certain coldness in them that the younger Angel didn't seem to be able to maintain. Dean had grown up with cartoons and comics depicting the Devil as some little red fellow with horns and red eyes, the one who revelled in Hell and practically _was_ fire; that Devil he could understand. This one, however, the calculating, militaristic, _cold_ being was a complete juxtaposition to the way he was actually depicted as in pop culture.

With an affirmative nod, Lucifer seemed to instantly shock everyone into action; Sam went to stand next to Dean and the two Archangels while Bobby stayed by the desk, book in hand.

" _Te invoco nunc,_ " Bobby invoked, staring more at the bowl and Hallows than the book. Knowing him, he had probably memorised the entire thing already anyway. " _Mortem. coram me, et ego in morte sanctorum._ " His voice had an eery quality as he spoke the last word. He descended into silence and then lit a match and dropped it into the bowl.

There wasn't a large fireball, or even a sound. The mix of ingredients just seemed to gulp down the lit match. When seconds and then minutes passed and nothing happened, Gabriel spoke up; "So obviously, Dad really wanted Humans to have faults, but really, this is a little over the top - are you sure you did that right?"

Bobby was generally pretty harsh and rough around the edges, but usually, he was pretty 'down to Earth' in a hunter sort of way - well, unless someone insulted his work. Hence the reason why Gabriel was now receiving one of Bobby's legendary 'idjit' glares. "Well if you're all flawless and perfect, _Gabe_ , why don't ya try for yourself?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Urgh, Humans, so sensitive, am I right or am I right?" He was addressing Lucifer now. Said Angel snorted and crossed his arms.

"You forget I was a Human once too, Gabriel. In fact my mind is pretty much Human right now; at least I think as Harry-"

- _Crunch._

For a moment, everyone's eyes searched the room until almost simultaneously all of their gazes found the source of the sound: A man, a very thin, lean, tall man was leaning against one of the armchairs. He was dressed in a long, dark overcoat and a sharp suit; his hair was brushed back neatly, giving his head a very skull-like appearance. His eyes were deeply set and were rimmed by large, dark shadows. One of his hands would have been holding his thin, black cane if it hadn't been for the pizza delivery box in one hand and the thin slice of leftover pizza in the other. The crunching sound had been him biting off a piece. Seeing that suddenly, everyone's attention was on him, Death raised an unimpressed eyebrow and shot them a look of disinterest. He took another bite, chewed and then swallowed.

"Oh no!" He exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. He made a 'go on' gesture and looked back down at his pizza slice. " _Do_ go on - I was so very much enjoying the show." He took another bite of his slice and his eyes found theirs again. He stared at them with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, like a tourist waiting for the grand finale of a tourist-trap-show. Dean's eyes almost involuntarily wandered over to his right hand; there on his ring finger sat a large ring with a rectangular stone set in the middle of it.

"Ehm," Dean started oh so eloquently. Sam shot him a look that said 'shut the fuck up'. Dean ignored him and took a hesitant step towards Death - for it most certainly was Death; he swung his hands nervously around himself. "I'm Dean W-"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Death said, eyeing them shrewdly. He glanced down at the pizza box in his hands and it instantly disappeared. He grabbed his cane and rested both hands on it as he stared at the group assembled in front of him. He glanced briefly at Bobby and acknowledged him with a short nod, but then he turned to stare at the Winchesters again. "You are supposed to be dead." He frowned and Dean found himself unable to look away. Death made a sort of half-shrug. "But God seems to like you."

"God's around?" Dean blurted out without thinking. Behind him, he could feel and hear the Archangel's shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh yes? Haven't you ever read the bible or been to church? _God is always with us - in our hearts_ ," he said it with such sarcasm that it was hard to tell whether he was actually being honest or just kidding. "Ah, yes," Death murmured and his gaze shifted past Dean and moved to the Archangels standing behind him - particularly Lucifer.

"God's favourite, _Lucifer._ " Death's facial expression was unreadable, but his hand tightened over his cane. " _And_ Harry Potter? Well, that's irony if I ever saw it." He smirked. "You are a particularly hard one to kill, Mister Potter."

"I do my best," Lucifer replied steely. Gabriel, next to him, shifted restlessly and Dean was suddenly made aware how grave this situation really was - for _Gabriel_ to be actually showing some emotion other than anger, hate or pure mischief… well, that was a cause for concern. Sammy seemed to come to the same conclusion because he too suddenly seemed unable to realise what to do with his hands.

Death actually smirked at Lucifer's reply, but this quickly turned to a sneer when his gaze settled on Gabriel. "Our resident prankster." He said it with so much annoyance and dislike that even Dean found himself shuddering in discomfort. The Archangel in question grimaced uncomfortably as Death leaned in as though to inspect the smallest of pores on Gabriel's vessel's face.

"Now," Death said, intoning that three-letter word with so much power and command that it made Dean really finally properly realise that this wasn't just a small, little demon hunt. "Why don't you let my nephew and I have a chat?"

Death didn't even wave his hand or move his cane; there was no signal or preemptive movement that allowed the room's occupants to know what was coming next. It was sudden, silent and swift; and suddenly Death and Lucifer were gone.

* * *

 _Again, I have no preview for the next chapter, mainly because I only just finished this chapter. usually, I'm a step or two ahead, but *shrug* school, man._

 _Anyway, I think it's safe to say that Death will also be in the next chapter - also, you'll get a small cameo from someone else. *wink*_

 _Also, next chapter: More pranks on gabe's part!_

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 **Yowza, hope you liked that! I certainly like writing a more Lucifer-like Harry. It's fun. Also one reviewer (amisam47) mentioned that Gabriel keeps getting taunted 'cause he never truly has that reunion with his big brother. That's coming soon. In fact, this is chapter...8, so if I stick to my plan, HP will remember who he is in chapter 10! Whoop whooop - i can't honestly believe that we're over 50k words here. Like whaaat - when did this happen?**

 **btw, I'm sick (eh, at the beginning of the school year - great start, eh?) so I'm spending a lot of time in bed, hence the reason why I actually managed to scramble up a chapter. XD A friend is taking notes for me, but I'll be behind when I go back... *sigh***

 **ANs:**

 ***1:** Ok, I don't know about you guys, but we always end up playing poker on Christmas Eve... And we never have poker chips, so we start using food. Usually we use nuts or spaghetti, but there's always that one dumbass cousin who starts splitting the pieces in two to have more chips. XD And someone (*blushes*) always starts eating the pieces of uncooked spaghetti.

 ***2:** Waldhaus beer is the best beer ever. hahaha I really pity the Americans reading this story - drinking age is 21 for you, right? It's 16 here. XD

 ***3:** Batcave: obviously a reference to Batman

 ***4:** Padawans is a reference to Star Wars

 ***5:** I've been told that Carmen Electra is a pretty big deal over in the States; also, I've heard the name a lot in TV shows.

 ***6:** 'I'm not quite Alice yet', is a vague reference to Alice in Wonderland. remember that scene with Absolem?

 ***7:** Yes, I'm repetitive and yes I used the 'Charlie's Angels' reference again.

 ***8:** I hope you know who Martin Luther King is.

 ***9:** The Stooges: reference to the band.

 ***10:** The 'Sandman' is a character from a graphic novel about Death. Also, historical reference: The spanish inquisition - well, I hope you know about that. Pretty brutal times in European history...

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **Qwety:** heheheh, well, I can't blame you - homework is a bitch XD And yess I totally get you; I just started senior year (on tuesday) and it's Friday and I'm already taking naps during the day cause I'm so exhausted. Anyway, thank you very much! (also you inspired the pizza scene with Death in this chapter XD - so thanks for that!)

 **Guest:** Lotr is life. It is one of my many bibles XD Anyway, thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 9

**Ok... This chapter is pretty short-ish, but that's due to school. I have school on Saturdays (today) 'till 12:00 and I literally spent four hours doing homework today. Four hours. It's 18:00 now and I'm finally finished with this chapter... I hope I don't disappoint... XD**

 **Also, this is chapter 9 so if everything goes along with my chapter-plot-plan then there's about three/four chapters left. Oh my god. And we're at 60k already. Like... how?**

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 _Death didn't even wave his hand or move his cane; there was no signal or preemptive movement that allowed the room's occupants to know what was coming next. It was sudden, silent and swift; and suddenly Death and Lucifer were gone._

Quicker than in a split-second, they were suddenly somewhere else. The temperature and humidity was the first sudden, jarring difference. Within a few seconds, beads of sweat started rolling down his forehead; whether from nervousness or the heat, Harry didn't know. Next, Harry took in the strong smell of… fast-food? And then finally, his eyes popped open and he took in the sight of a… fast food joint?

They were sitting in a booth in a small, quaint cafe on the corner of a very busy-looking street. There was a counter on the far side with a short line of impatiently waiting young people, all of them worriedly looking down at their watches. Their eyes kept straying over to a menu hanging over said counter, as though still deciding what to take. The cafe was relatively full - of young, exuberant people, chatting animately with each other; all dressed in bright colours.

That was why the man - being - sitting across Harry, eating a chocolate donut (with cutlery) looked so out of place. Darkness, and the calm that comes along with death, hung around him like a cold blanket of snow. His old appearance and empty stare was a direct juxtaposition towards the other people in said establishment. Then again, Death wasn't exactly a person.

"Eat," Death commanded matter-of-factly as he took a long gulp from his black coffee. Harry looked down at the table only to see that there too was a donut on his plate. When Death's unnerving stare settled on him and Harry almost instantly complied.

Gabriel would have _loved_ this - a sugar overload.

"Do you make a habit of kidnapping people and feeding them fast-food?" Harry asked after he had washed down the sweet pastry with a hot gulp of tea.

"Ah, no," Death said, looking mildly reminiscent. Harry stared at him, but Death didn't give any indication that he would continue talking.

"So, erm, _Master of Death_ , what's all that about, then?" The ex-wizard said haltingly. Death fixed him with a glare so cold that it could have frozen Harry's steaming tea.

"Not in the least what the name implies," he replied icily, suddenly passively aggressively chewing on his large bite **. "** The story of the Peverells is in part true," Death began, "They did trick me and they did _attempt_ to bind me. Their punishment for attempting to bind me - ah, well, their lives ended in tragedy; the eldest died by his own wand, the second by his own resurrected mistress and the third lived in fear and horror for his whole life." Death spoke with such a calm and collected tone that he could have just as well been discussing the weather.

"So I'm not your… master?"

Death actually smiled; it was chilling. "As presumptuous as ever, aren't you Lucifer?"

Harry's stare hardened. "I wouldn't know, I don't remember."

"Ah, yes. I heard about your pickle," Death's eyes met Harry's and he cocked his head to the side in thought as though finally seeing something remotely curiosity-inducing in him.

"I wouldn't call losing my memories a 'pickle'," Harry commented, eyebrow raised. Death rolled his eyes; it was such a human motion that it looked weird on a being of his supreme power.

"Indeed," Death murmured, wiping his long fingers against a cloth serviette (which, again, in a fast-food chain such as this looked very odd). Finally, after a moment of deliberation, Death interlocked his fingers; the plate disappeared and suddenly all conversations in the small room dulled as though someone had just plugged all of the Humans' mouths.

"What do you see when you look at me, Lucifer?" It was such a sudden and random question that Harry actually physically reeled from shock. Blinking he opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to figure out what to say.

"Erm," he finally started so very eloquently in typical Harry-fashion. He vaguely gestured at Death's body. "I guess what you'd expect about someone like Death - y'know the suit, the darkness, the creepy bone-face."

Death laughed - an honest-to-God laugh. He examined his long, bony fingers with sudden interest and flexed them as though he'd never really noticed that he _had_ fingers in the first place. Sensing that Harry was staring at him, Death smirked. "Humans have such… limited, subjective mentalities. You only see what you wish and expect to see. I am not an old man, nor am I a young woman, or a small child. I cannot be personified as a Human - I am Death - I am everywhere you go; in your car as you drive through the night, while you eat, wherever you can die, I am there."

"That's a tad creepy, mate," Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. Death shot him a brief glare but otherwise ignored his comment.

"You should not see me as an old man - a reaper if you will. You are an Archangel, yet you still see the world as a Human - I wonder why that is." For a moment, Death seemed genuinely baffled, then as he kept staring at Harry, a slow and steady (creepy!) smile crawled onto his thin lips. He murmured a soft 'ah' after a moment.

"Ah? Seriously? Look - you're Death and sure I respect you, but how the hell is an 'ah' supposed to help me? You gotta give me something more."

Death levelled him with another of those soul-punching stares. "Do not presume to demand anything of me, _boy,_ " Death intoned, tone deceptively civil.

"I am not a 'boy'," Harry snarled back, suddenly feeling much braver than he should. Logically, he understood that Death could literally kill him with so much as a thought, but he wouldn't - at least, he hoped he wouldn't.

"I was alive many more eons before your creation and I will be after your death. I stood by _God_ as he siphoned you from his Grace; to me, you are nothing but a small speck in time - a replaceable chess figurine throwing a temper tantrum because it won't do what it was commanded to do." Death's tone was suddenly very icy as he spoke and for a moment, Harry thought he saw his surroundings shiver a little as though the very world was reacting towards Death's state.

"I wasn't commanded to do anything - or at least, whatever plan _God_ had regarding the Apocalypse and Lucifer's - my - death, won't happen. I am not going to fight Michael, nor am I too keen on the 'Heaven on Earth' concept. I don't think the Angels would appreciate my booze stash."

Death's head tired backwards and he examined Harry from head to toe, as though attempting to properly digest all that he had heard. "Curious… very curious," the entity finally murmured, eyeing him thoughtfully.

Harry grimaced. "Last time someone said that to me, I found out Voldemort killed my family." ***1**

"Pesky little thing wasn't he?" Death seemed to wrinkle his nose and then he snorted disbelievingly. "He fled from me his entire life and then died half a century earlier than most wizards do - ah, the irony."

Harry rolled his eyes. He was _not_ going to engage in any sort of small-talk - with Death of all people. "Yeah, totally pesky," Harry drawled, sarcasm practically dripping from every word. He could sense something new in him; something foreign, spurring him on and forcing him to act the way he was - was this Lucifer's personality trickling out through the cracks?

"I'm new to all this - y'know I've never been kidnapped before, so, uh, why? It's not like you need ransom money or something - also while we're at it, why don't you bloody tell me why the bloody hell I can't regain _my_ memories!"

"Do not raise your tone to me, _boy_ ," Death said civilly, but his eyes betrayed his calmness and then suddenly the facade dropped: Death's calm demeanour and polite disposition vanished, only to be replaced by a feeling of pure… death. This was Death abandoning his mask and actually, really, getting down to business.

"I will give you the information that you seek - and the ring," he started and raised a bony hand when Harry's mouth floundered in an attempt to speak. When the ex-wizard tried to press on, he noticed that his vocal cords had been numbed down: Death had literally taken his voice away. " _But_ ," Death continued. Harry rolled his eyes: there was always a but. "In exchange, you will give me back my Hallows."

Seemingly noticing that Harry's eyes had widened a fraction in surprise and confusion, Death let out a small scoff of displeasure. "I cannot take them myself - the Hallows have to be handed to me."

The tight pressure over Harry's vocal cords suddenly dissipated and Harry absently massaged his throat while he examined Death with shrewd eyes, attempting to spot the deception. Finally, after a long moment - and an intense staring match - Harry's gaze finally dropped and he nodded once in acceptance. They needed the ring; and they needed Harry's memories - _no_ \- _Harry_ needed Lucifer's memories; he needed them to be whole again. Sacrifices had to be made - the cloak had to go back to it's original maker. Harry frowned briefly, Teddy would be disappointed with that - he had really taken to it when Harry had passed it on to the little half-were-wolf.

"Fine, but you go first. Tell me what's wrong with me." Apparently, Death's desire to get his objects back was stronger than his desire to decline Harry's offer because he inclined his head slightly in agreement or indulgence - Harry couldn't have been sure… after all, this _was_ Death.

"Your human body is magical, correct?"

Harry frowned for a moment, wondering what that had to do with anything, but then slowly nodded. Yes, he supposed that currently he - as Grace - was inhabiting his own body as a demon or an angel did with a vessel. The body still functioned as it had when it was a human… so theoretically, he still was a wizard.

"Well, _Harry Potter_ , I assume by now that you have been informed as to what an Archangel's Grace does to a regular vessel? A Human body starts decomposing as it is unable to hold all of that energy within it. Now… just imagine what would happen to a Human body if it were supercharged with Grace _and_ magic." As Death's voice trailed away, Harry's eyes only grew wider as he actually started to comprehend the consequences of his actions.

"So… what, I'll explode?" Harry's voice was smaller and weaker than he had actually imagined it would be. Surprisingly, even after all of these years, he didn't necessarily welcome Death with open arms. Death raised a single eyebrow in answer.

The Archangel groaned loudly. "Ok, fine. But what the bloody hell does that have to do with my memories as Lucifer?"

"Patient as always, Lucifer," Death said, sarcasm coating every word. He ignored Harry's brief remark about 'not exactly feeling patient about this shit' and continued: "Grace and magic weren't supposed to mix - there's a reason why Angels don't take magical vessels: the body is already too overpowered with energy to take on any more. It is not meant to be. Harry Potter's magic is interfering with Lucifer's Grace, causing the body and mind to short-circuit."

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured and rushed a hand through his already unruly hair. "So what do I do?" He finally asked, after he had composed himself enough to address Death.

Said being was smirking at him slightly, possibly even finding some sort of sadistic pleasure in Harry's mental suffering. "You get rid of the magic or the Grace," He said matter-of-factly, as though he delivered this sort of information every day. "The remaining energy in Harry Potter's body will dominate said body and mind."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at Death. "You're telling me that I kill one off and the personality goes along with it?"

Death _shrugged_ , actually _shrugged._ "Your case is unprecedented."

Harry rolled his eyes and he threw his hands up as though to say 'fuck it'. "So basically my options are: not to kill anyone and I become a second Chernobyl, kill the Grace off and I'm basically rolling onto my back and screaming 'surrender' or kill the magic off and I become Jack the Ripper the second." ***2**

"Yes, essentially," Death said in a bored tone.

"And can't you… I don't know, maybe unlock the memories for me? I mean, you're Death, you're a primordial being," Harry said desperately, now grasping at the short straws too. Death let out a disbelieving snort through his nose.

"Of course I could. But I won't - I have learned that He does not appreciate it when I interfere with His plan."

"He? He as in God?" Harry groaned out again. "You actually _know_ God?"

"We are brothers," Death started and seeing Harry's eyes widening in shock, Death elaborated: "In the sense that we do not remember which one of us is older. We are equals in everything and therefore we are siblings."

"So you're my… _uncle_ ," Harry asked, wrinkling his nose as he stared at Death incredulously. Said entity stared back at him with mutual dislike, then his eyebrow twitched slightly and he reached out with his hand, palm up.

"Now," he intoned heavily, there was a sudden tone of impatience in his voice. "My Hallows?"

Well, a deal was a deal so Harry wiggled his fingers and summoned the three Hallows. He briefly wondered what the people in this small cafe would think if they found out that Lucifer and Death were meeting up in said establishment to trade priceless and incredibly powerful objects.

A small smile actually graced Death's lips as his eyes set upon the objects assembled on the table. Gently, he reached out and gathered the three objects; they disappeared into nothingness… except for the ring. Death fondly tapped the stone set in it and then proceeded to set it back down on the table.

"I used it once, you know," Harry said finally after a moment of contemplative silence. "When I was in the forest about to go face Voldemort. I thought that if I used it, ghosts of my parents and maybe Sirius would appear."

Death sighed in that typical 'I'm better than you, Human's are insufferable and so incredibly dull and unimaginative' way. "The ring does not resurrect people," he said after a long moment. Harry's head shot up in surprise and he looked at the entity with wide eyes.

"W-what?" He exclaimed, blinking unnaturally fast. "But why is it called the Resurrection Stone, then?"

Death actually looked amused for a moment, but he hid it quickly behind a mask of coldness and indifference. "It is not the Resurrection stone. The Resurrection stone is a myth."

Harry scrunched up his face in bemusement. "So what kind of Ring did you give the Peverell's if not that one?" Harry's eyes suddenly, almost subconsciously wandered over to Death's left hand and just managed to see the ring that had been previously on his ring finger, slowly blur out until it completely disappeared. Harry breathed out in surprise. "An illusion?" His eyes flickered up to Death's and then down to the ring set on the table right between them.

"So that's the Ring - the actual Ring? One of the keys to the Cage?" Death gave him a vague nod. "And we've - _I've -_ had it this entire time? Merlin, I'm a moron."

The deity rolled his eyes. "The Winchesters' melodrama is starting to rub off on you, Lucifer."

"The hell they are," Harry quipped right back at him and suddenly there was something resembling fondness in Death's eyes. Taking that as an indication that Death could actually stand him, Harry reached out and with hesitant fingers, picked up the ring.

Death's ring was warm to his touch, as though it was being warmed by some other third-party energy source; it was rough and bulky… it didn't have much elegance - a direct contradiction to Death's actual appearance. Then again, Death had mentioned earlier that his appearance was only a subjective thought, the way he looked was only manipulated by the way people thought of him.

"So, uh, what does it do? I mean, War's ring obviously turned people against each other…" Harry trailed off as he passed the ring from one palm and then back. "I saw Gabriel, Michael and one more person I didn't recognise when I used the ring, but I guess that he was Raphael."

Death hummed thoughtfully and his gaze swivelled around to stare at Harry. "The Ring was never meant to be used as a weapon - not like the other Horsemen. It is not the source of my power; instead it was meant to reveal people's strongest desires, their deepest wishes, however unconscious they may be."

Harry stared at the ring cradled in his palms and then turned that incredulous stare back on Death. "And all I wished as Harry - and I guess as Lucifer too - was to have a family. That was why I saw Gabriel, Raphael and Michael all around me, supporting me in my hour of need." Harry blinked at Death in sudden realisation. "What do _you_ see when you put it on?" He asked, suddenly getting a very strong deja vu sort of feeling. Hadn't he had this exact sort of conversation with someone else, long ago?

The entity gave him a bored expression. "Family and materialistic desires are a purely human traits; I have no desires regarding the Human race." He rolled his eyes and nodded at the Ring. "You may have the Ring for the time being. However, there will come a time when I will appear before you and demand it back. I urge you to cooperate when the time comes for you to do so."

Harry sighed in relief. They had War's Ring now, and Death's. Two down, two to go.

"But," Death started and Harry's sigh of relief turned into a scowl. There was always a 'but' in every deal ever made. "My condition is that if the Winchesters die, you will not will not resurrect them. If they die, this will be their last time."

By the time Harry had started to comprehend Death's demand, Death was gone and instead, Harry was left staring at the opposite side of the booth, mouth slightly agape. And when the nice waitress came over to see if everything was ok with his food he nodded and gave her a generous tip. Then, with gentleness and elegance that only came with being an angel, Harry spread out his brilliant wings and took off.

.

Almost every window in the house was brightly lit with warm light that pooled out of the windows and partly brightened the small Japanese garden in the back-yard. It was a modest little cottage, but homey and idyllic: it was made from bricks and stones and creeping on each wall were large, beautiful vines. The door was painted a bright scarlet: betraying the house's occupants as loyal Gryffindors.

Harry in fact, now stood before said house, hand raised and ready to knock, but he couldn't fully bring himself to do it. Leaning back a little, he spotted his old friend through the window. Her hair was as bushy as ever and her eyes were as always, raking over an old tome that looked so old that it could literally break apart at any moment. She was holding a long, thin quill in her hand was was rapidly sketching out some notes in that neat, immaculate script of hers.

Hermione looked good; better than the last time he had seen her. The dark rings under her eyes were gone and her perpetually frowning face was drawn into a concentrated, but calm one now. She looked healthy and at peace and she was probably doing holiday-homework, because knowing Hermione, she had decided to complete her last year at Hogwarts. It was for this reason that Harry didn't want to disturb her.

He owed Hermione a lot, especially his escape to America, where Fudge had literally no jurisdiction and power - did he have the right to barge into her life like this? Before he could mull over the fact any more, Harry's thoughts turned to Fudge and the organisation he must've put together by now. Glancing up and down the quiet street Harry winced slightly - what if someone saw him here? Hurriedly making a decision, Harry knocked on the door.

There was some cursing from the inside (Harry raised his eyebrow at that), and then some stomping and finally, a lock turned in the door and it cracked open. This small crack was instantly widened when Harry's host very suddenly realised who he was. Letting out a trill of happy laughter, Hermione launched herself at him; Harry caught her and suddenly found himself smiling widely and he felt happier and more _him_ than he had in months. He spun around and Hermione's legs briefly touched off the ground.

"Come on, let's get inside, Harry; before anyone sees us," Hermione finally murmured in his ear when they had partially disentangled. She dragged him over the porch and closed the door behind them.

"It's good to see you," Harry said, grinning widely as he threw himself onto one of the couches. Hermione's grin matched his and she sunk into an armchair next to the sofa.

"How are you, Harry?" She asked softly and then her face froze for a moment. "Why are you here - did the Americans find out about you? Are you on the run again?"

Said ex-wizard bit his lip briefly. "Eh, no. I'm fine. I've been squatting in a scrapyard-" Seeing Hermione's bewildered look, Harry waved his hand vaguely. "-But that isn't important. How are you? What's the situation like here? Ron?"

Hermione faltered for a moment, evidently burning with questions, but she relented and instead (with a quick wave of her wand) summoned two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry eagerly gulped it all down, relishing in the familiar taste. "Oh Harry," she started. There was so much sympathy and pity in those two words that Harry was already tempted to turn away from her. "They're - Fudge and his posse - _hunting_ you and they've managed to convince a great deal of the magical population of Britain that you are a danger… They use your exile as proof of your guilt."

"That's bullshit," Harry said, eyes wide and mouth agape as he listened to Hermione. "I would never intentionally hurt anyone."

"Oh I know, Harry." Her voice was still full with pity and Harry briefly looked away, unable and unwilling to see it in her eyes. "Ron is fine; he's a trainee in the Auror department now."

Harry's eyes wandered around the small cottage, seeing little knick-knacks that weren't Hermione's: a small, animated _Chudley Cannons_ figurine, a set of wand holsters too large for a woman, and so on and so forth. He smiled briefly at that. "And I see he's living with you," he stated blandly.

Hermione blushed and nodded. She opened her mouth to say something but Harry beat her to it. "No, no. It's fine 'Mione. You two have been dancing around each other for long enough." His eyes wandered back to the stack of books and notes on the other side of the room. "I see you've been busy as well - back at Hogwarts?"

She nodded and fluffed her bushy hair. "I wanted to finish my education; my parents would have liked me to." She seemed to briefly deflate at the thought of her memory-less parents, who were still hidden away in Australia. Her gaze, however quickly snapped back at Harry and narrowed slightly. "You seem different, Harry."

Harry scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Eh, and therein lies an announcement."

"Don't tell me you're getting married?" Hermione asked suddenly, mouth agape as she stared at him. Harry briefly froze and stared back at her with confusion.

"What? No! Why the hell did you even think of that - are _you_ getting married?"

Hermione blushed again and she shook her head, then giggled slightly. "No, not yet - but I think Ron is going to propose soon."

"Oh… Well that's good news, I guess?" Harry said haltingly, unsure of what he should say in such a situation.

Hermione smiled widely and nodded. " _Your_ announcement?" She prodded. Harry cleared his throat, unsure of how to start; after all, it wasn't every day that you told your childhood best friend that you were apparently Lucifer and needed their help to regain said entity's memories.

"You can tell me anything, Harry," she said gently, gazing up at him with such naivety that it made Harry almost decide to lie to her about it all.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured as he stared at his hands. By now he had generally accepted who he was, telling his friends was just the next step. When his gaze slowly crawled up to meet her wide-eyed expression, he sighed and began. "You're not going to like this, 'Mione. But I'm going to have to ask you not to interrupt me - not 'till I'm done. Can you do that?"

She nodded; there was sudden fear and terror in her eyes as though she herself knew that whatever Harry was going to tell her wasn't going to be good.

"I'll start off by saying that all religions in the world ever created are real - Christianity being the dominant one." Hermione instantly opened her mouth to speak but Harry raised a hand and gave her a scolding glare. She faltered and snapped her mouth shut. "All religions originated via belief, meaning that pretty much every god or goddess you know such as Odin or Hades or Shiva were all created because people believed in them. However, the times of sacrifice have come and passed meaning that they can't get their power 'fix' anymore. They still exist but they aren't nearly as powerful as they once were."

"You said Christianity was the dominant religion?" Hermione looked like she was already bursting with questions but Harry gave her another stern glare. Finally, however, he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, He is the original God; the one that created all of this." He gestured vaguely at his surroundings. Seeing her confused and slightly lost expression Harry smiled sadly. "It makes it worse doesn't it? The fact that you know that He's real, but that he doesn't care a shit about all of the suffering around the world…" Harry trailed off, realising he was going completely off track and cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Anyhow, that isn't the bit of news that I was getting at," Harry said. Hermione laughed nervously and gulped down the last bit of her beverage.

Gazing at the empty glass she said; "I think I'm going to need something stronger, then." Somehow knowing that he wouldn't be able to stall anymore, Harry waved a hand and instantly, the glass in her hand was replaced with a gin and tonic. Hermione gazed at him with surprise but nodded in thanks, seemingly actually waiting for him to give an explanation before drowning him in questions.

"Obviously, it's logical then, that a lot of the stuff in the bible is real, yeah?" She nodded and Harry continued. "Angels and Demons are real. There is a Heaven and Hell - Merlin, there's even a Hell-adjacent area called Purgatory."

Hermione's mouth floundered for a moment or two. Then it clicked shut and finally after composing herself again (and gulping down about half of her drink) she turned to stare at Harry again. "Ok," she murmured, gazing at him with wide eyes.

"Ok?" Harry questioned with a short, nervous laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"After almost ten years of living in the wizarding world, I think I can wrap my head around something like Angels and Demons - and God."

"Well… I met Gabriel - the Archangel - in the US," Harry said bluntly, amusement playing in his eyes as he watched Hermione cover her mouth in shock.

" _The_ Gabriel? Oh my - what did he look like? Was he intimidating? What was he like-?"

"-Whoa, slow down Hermione!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh, grinning even when his laughter had abated. "He's a bit of an asshole - floppy hair and has a cocky personality. I like him," Harry smiled fondly as his thoughts turned to his brother. "He's also a pretty badass prankster. Ohh, you should have seen this one guy we pranked; you'd never guess what you can do with a Hulk-"

"-Hold on," Hermione exclaimed, setting down her glass and then frantically waving her hands around. "You did _what_ with _Gabriel_?"

Harry scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Would it make you feel any better if you knew that the guy we pranked actually deserved it?"

Hermione stared at him, expression incredulous. "How did you even - why are you-" she tried to get out. Smiling understandingly and knowing exactly how overwhelming all of it was, Harry interrupted her.

"How do we even know each other? Well, that has to do with the Angels and with a specific group of them…" For a moment he trailed off and then he took a deep breath. This was it. He was going to tell her. "Angels can Fall if they so wish to. They Fall and rip out their Grace - their energy source - from their bodies and become Humans. The Host of Heaven considers this a sin and a crime; that's why there aren't many that have done it in the last millennia or so-"

"Harry…" Hermione started, hesitatingly as she bit her lip. "Are you telling me that you are a Fallen Angel?" Said Angel gulped silently before slowly giving her a few nods. She took a deep, sharp breath and suddenly, her gaze became sympathetic and pitiful in less than a second.

"B-but you're still Harry?"

"Seems like it," he murmured softly, spreading out his arms in a welcoming gesture. He placed the glass back in her hand and smiled. "I think you're going to need that for the next part."

"There's a _next part_?" Her voice was suddenly very weak and Harry knew that he could very well overwhelm her… but he needed to do this. He needed to tell someone about it.

"Yeah. See, I - uh - regained my Grace, so to speak, but it seems that my magic is stopping the Grace from fully unlocking my memories as the Angel that I once was. I need your help with that - to somehow separate my magic from my Grace."

"But you _do_ know who you were, don't you? At least a name?" She ignored Harry's plea for help and instead concentrated on the real identity of her best friend.

Harry scratched the back his head. "Well, I'm featured heavily in the bible," he started and watched as Hermione's gaze briefly unfocused as she tried to remember her bible knowledge.

"I don't remember there being many Angels in the bible… uh, Michael, I guess?"

Harry actually smirked at the irony and took hold of her wrist in a sort of calming gesture. When her gaze connected with his own amused and slightly smirking expression, she gasped out in shock and the glass she had been holding in one hand tumbled to the ground. She knew; her little, Human brain had actually come to the right conclusion all by itself. However, that didn't stop Harry's smirk from widening as he gazed at her mischievously.

"My name is Lucifer," he murmured to her.

* * *

 _Again, no preview - due to school. But I can hint at one thing: Harry will finally get his memories back next chapter and y'all finally get an action scene/fight between Luci and his older brother *squeals* I'm so excited to start writing that already...!_

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 **basically, finally, Harry has completely admitted to himself and to his friends etc who he really is. His transformation is now nearly complete. all that remains is him to get his memories back.**

 **Also, I hope Death lived up to your expectations and answered any questions you may have had. I tried to depict him as a sort of indifferent being. I mean, he was pretty bored with the entire apocalypse 'fiasco' in the actual show. kinda unimpressed. So yeah, I also wanted to show him as something more than what _supernatural_ gave us: I mean he's _death. literally death._ meaning that he HAS to be _more_ thank just a well-dressed old man. Y'know what I mean? **

**Also, I was trying to hint at that Harry isn't quite, completely himself yet. He still thinks like a human. Someone like Gabriel would see Death as who or what he is ( well I guess the correct pronoun would be 'they' is), but Harry's mind hasn't been 'freed' yet. He still sees a human interpretation of Death. Wow, look at me being all philosophical.**

 **Hermione will appear one last time during the next chapter (cos I really don't like her)... Anyhow, I thought that someone who meant so much to Harry would actually have to appear in his life at some point.**

 **ANs:**

 ***1:** Reference to the original HP books when Ollivander points at Harry's scar and murmurs 'curious'...

 ***2:** The references here are: Chernobyl = massive explosion (google it if you don't know), Jack the Ripper = serial murderer in London in the... 19th century? Anyway, Harry is talking about becoming a mass-murderer here.

 **Anonymous Reviews:**

 **Guest:** Aww thank you! I hope Death lived up to your expectations!

 **Mim:** Buckle up everyone! This one's gonna be one helluva long reply! Ok, hello Mim! I can honestly say that your extremely long review is probably one of the top five reviews I have ever received. Thank you so much - I can't honestly thank you enough for that extremely thorough analysis and comment... It's just really flattering. And honestly, I wish you weren't on anonymous and that I could reply to you privately. I've read your review at least six times and every time I find myself smiling widely as I read it. Thank you so much. Also, I love you for your puns. That is after all, my favourite kind of humour.

Hmmm... My favourite exclamatory word? Well, that _has_ to be 'whoop whoop'. Seriously, whenever I get an email and I see that I've received a review I silently (well.. under my breath) say 'whoop whoop'. I have no idea why. I hope everything's ok with school though - Personally, I am dead. I've only had school for two weeks and I am already completely done.

Hehehe I actually have an awesome plan for K-9 - and you're right. He's too intelligent to be a simple dog *wink*. OMGOMG YOu just gave me a great idea- and you'Re totally right! The Angels DEFINITELY have some sort of pop culture... At least one musical superstar... They HAVE to have one. Oh my god, I am going to have so much fun with this in the next chapter. XD

Ooohghh I'm totally obsessed with 'TP of Dorian Gray'. Honestly, it's one of my favourite books... *wink* *wink* Crowley's gonna get his own little chapter soon. XD Anyway, thank you so much for reviewing. I would definitely love to write a much more thorough reply... cause you seem like an awesome person so if you ever want to chat or actually contact my privately (ehhh it's kinda odd having to reply here all of the time...) just message me on here or go over to my tumblr (tardisdementor)... So, ehm thank you...


	11. Chapter 10

**This chapter was pretty hard to write because I kept trying to find the motivation to do so. I am currently swamped in homework (at least three hours a day) and my first exam is on Saturday next week (math!) and I'm incredibly anxious because math has become my worst subject (it's pretty ironic considering that my penname is Leonhard van Euler (the founder of the entire e theory in math)). So sorry about the short-ish chapter (eh, remember when I used to think that 3k was a long chapter?) Also, I wrote this chapter in two days *slow clap from my dorm-mate***

 **Has anyone listened to the new single by Louden Swain (y'know that band with God (Chuck)) *wink* it's great.**

 **Also, I originally planned this story to be ca. 40k words... Hm... I've written 26k more... ok. I have no idea how long this will be.**

* * *

 _"_ _My name is Lucifer," he murmured to her._

For a few moments, there was utter silence in the small cottage. Suddenly it seemed as though his ears had even gone deaf for a brief moment; he could barely hear the clock ticking, his own heartbeat was hard to detect, and the birds that had been previously, merrily chirping away, now sat in silence. Hermione herself seemed to had lost her ability to speak for she sat in front of Harry, one hand grasping her armchair's arm, the other was still clutched between Harry's fingers. Her mouth was wide open and kept shuddering every few seconds as she attempted to speak, and her eyes were wide with something akin to horror and fear.

Harry's hold on her wrist slacked for a moment and he leaned forwards to examine her closer; _was she alright?_ This seemed to jumpstart Hermione's brain and central nervous system because she suddenly recoiled from his intense stare and jerked her entire arm back as though she'd been burned but the Devil himself - ehm - yes. Her limbs floundered for a moment as she tried to regain control of her body and ended up in her tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry sighed; apparently he'd been less tactful than he'd thought he'd been. He easily and gracefully pulled her back to her feet and for a moment she stood in his arms, staring into his eyes, and then with a small squeal, she propelled herself away from him.

"Hermione-" He started with a sort of defeated sigh. It was enough that the Winchesters already disliked him - and apparently most of the Wizarding World too - but not Hermione. Not sweet, intelligent Hermione that he considered a sister in all but blood.

"Don't you dare, _Demon_ ," she spat out viciously, shakily reaching for her wand as she walked around the armchair so as to give herself some semblance of protection. Pointing her wand at his chest, her face drew into an ugly frown (accompanied with a glare). Harry slowly raised two placating hands; magic wouldn't be able to hurt him much (at least he assumed as much), but he didn't want to take any chances.

"I'm not a _Demon_ ," he tried to start with a calming tone, but the word 'demon' was spat out with much more vice than he'd intended to. After all, they _were_ kind of disgusting - parasites in almost every sense of the word. "I am an Archangel - an Angel of the Lord."

"You're the _Devil_ ," she gasped out as her eyes widened in fear. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, believe me, you're not the only one who was unhappy when they figured out that piece of information," he murmured quietly. Hermione's still shaking head cocked to the side in vague confusion. Harry gently lowered his raised arms and folded his hands together. "Do you know what it does to a man to find out that he's the literal Devil?" He asked her gently.

"B-But how!?" She exclaimed, once more as her grip tightened around the armchair that she was currently using as a makeshift shield. Harry could have swept it away with so much as a thought, but let it be for the time being; right now she needed the comfort and security.

"I told you how I fell and lost my Grace," he answered patiently, but felt sudden impatience well up in his gut. They didn't have much time; he couldn't spend that much time in England reconciling with friends and trying to find them ways to understand who he was.

"That's not what I asked, H- _Lucifer_ ," she spat out, just as viciously as before. Harry's eyes dulled briefly. He'd thought that out of all of his friends, perhaps the most intellectually advanced one would actually _understand_.

"I know what you meant." Harry stood up and tucked his hands into his pockets. He watched her with slight amusement; Hermione had tensed up and the grip on her wand had tightened so strongly that her knuckles were white.

Harry conjured a glass of bourbon; this was going to take a while.

Gripping it tightly and raised it to his lips. Once he had taken enough gulps to numb down his throat he began: "Do you know why Diogenes lived in a barrel on the edge of town?"

Hermione's eyebrows drew together as her brain automatically searched for the academically correct answer. "…Diogenes believed that the simple life in a barrel meant not only a disregard of luxury but also of laws of an organised and therefore 'conventional' community…" Hermione trailed off, as though she'd just finished quoting the end of a textbook chapter.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, waving his hand, disregarding her rather astute and accurate description. "But you forget the fact that he also did that 'cause he wanted to isolate himself and concentrate on the school of cynic philosophy; he wanted to think, therefore he isolated himself."

"I've never read that before," Hermione pointed out and Harry laughed lightly. He gulped down half of the liquid remaining in his glass.

"You still put too much faith in books, Hermione. And what I know… well, let's just say… this was personal experience," Harry winked at her and her frown deepened. She seemed to have somewhat calmed down; however, the hostility remained. "The fact remains, isolation provides a man - an Angel - a lot of time to think." Harry's gaze darkened. "I was exiled from Heaven for waging a war against my Creator and I was flung into the cage by my brother. I spent the next few millennia despairing and thinking - much like Diogenes once did. I prayed and cried for my father when I had recognised my irreversible sins and He answered my pleas." ***1**

Harry took another sip of the bourbon and relished the taste and the burn. "He reincarnated me as a Human on the condition that I learned to love this race. He told me that when I would become my last reincarnation - Harry Potter - I would regain my Grace and be forgiven for my sins." Hermione's frown had disappeared and her tense posture had relaxed somewhat. Her arm was still raised and her wand was still pointed at Harry's chest, but she actually looked like she was seriously considering his monologue.

"You said you don't remember being _him_ ," she said. Her voice still had a vague sharpness about it, but at least it was no longer scathing.

Harry sighed defeatedly. "Not yet. As of right now, I am still Harry in the sense that I still adhere to his morals and his memories. Lucifer's Grace… has had an influence on me, as has the onslaught of thousands of years worth of memories of all of the lives that I have been reborn as." He set his glass down on a coffee table and attempted to approach Hermione, her grip on her wand only tightened.

"But this," he gestured at his body. "This is not who I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be a warrior of Heaven, the second born son, the most beautiful of them all… I feel him inside me, really yearning to be part of his family once more… you have to understand… we're the same. My personality as Harry, well, that was always Lucifer; just a slightly more mellow and less… devilry version of him."

Hermione's gaze softened for a brief moment, and she gently lowered her wand. "Oh, Harry," she murmured quietly, eyebrows and eyes working in tandem to form a sympathetic expression on her tried-looking face. "You have sacrificed so much."

Harry shrugged. "The Greater Good, eh? Guess Dumbledore was right all along."

Hermione's gaze hardened for a moment. "I will _not_ have any utilitarian _Jeremy Benthams_ in this house!" She exclaimed loudly. ***2**

Harry laughed uncertainly. He could see her soul, and it was unrestful. It shook and shuddered intermittently and it felt dark as though Hermione was particularly down in this moment. Well, Harry supposed she had a right to; after all, it wasn't every day that you found out that your best friend was actually the Devil. However, she seemed to have somewhat accepted him.

"You said you need my help?" She stated rather incredulously. Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well, I wasn't really thinking, I guess. Death - yes, _the_ Death - kidnapped me and told me that my magic was impeding my Grace to fulfil its full potential and also unlock my memories. My first instinct was to run to you." ***3**

Hermione sighed deeply and leaned down to the floor to gently start picking up the shards of glass of the cup that she had dropped when Harry had revealed exactly who she was. With a snap of his fingers, said shards had rejoined together to form a glass. Hermione stared at it for a moment, then set it down on the coffee table.

"After all these years, you still run to me to do your homework for you?" She said with a raised eyebrow, however there was a brief spark of amusement in her eyes. Harry raised on shoulder and then dropped it.

"Eh, I guess we could compare notes?"

Harry spent the rest of the evening at the cottage, nostalgically chatting with Hermione about their time at Hogwarts. Hermione spent an hour or two telling him how everyone was and what they were doing; Neville had also gone back to Hogwarts and was pursuing a mastery in herbology, the Weasleys were still mourning Fred's death and Teddy was living with his grandmother. Harry felt vaguely guilty for not being there for him, as he _was_ technically his godfather, but he supposed that that after the apocalypse was over he would have all of the time in the world for little Teddy.

He and Hermione spent the rest of Harry's visit devising a plan for Harry to follow once he got back to the US so that he could regain his memories. However, right now they sat in comfortable silence, drinking hot beverages and shooting each other sad smiles every now and then.

To Harry, it felt all to much like leaving a farewell letter before a suicide mission.

It was quite late into the evening when Harry finally started feeling impatient again. God knew what had happened to Gabriel and the Winchesters. Had Michael gotten to them? Were they all alright? Were they searching for him? The answers to all of these questions could have been easily provided by actually going back to Bobby's, but he hesitated. If he went back, he would have to share his - Hermione's - plan with Gabriel. And soon… Lucifer would regain dominance and he would be lost. So effectively, this was his last night on Earth with his full mental capacity as Harry James Potter.

Harry sighed and stretched out his wings. He could see them cutting through the walls; their metaphysical characteristics actually making themselves known. He heard a gasp and his head spun around; his eyes met Hermione's and he saw that she was actually staring beyond his head and at the wall behind him. A quick glance told him that the glow of the fireplace provided him the perfect lighting to show off the shadow of his magnificent wings.

"You can't see them," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione's gaze focused itself on Harry's again.

"I would have loved to."

"One glimpse at my true form and your eyes would explode," Harry pointed out. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Hm, maybe not, then."

Before Harry could answer, however, he was interrupted by a loud commotion outside and then a quiet warning bell started ringing in the cottage. Hermione's eyes widened exponentially and in an instant she jumped to her feet and drew out her wand. Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow and remained sitting in his relaxed position on the high-winged armchair.

Hermione's wide and panicked eyes found Harry's. "The wards, Harry! Someone's triggered them!" With a sharp jab of her wand, all the curtains in the house were drawn and the lights were dimmed so as to give them - her - the advantage of surprise and secrecy, were anyone to come into the cottage.

"Harry!" She exclaimed sharply in a whisper when she noticed that Harry was still sipping his hot, steaming tea. Said Archangel shrugged; this was, to be terribly honest, not really his problem, nor a danger to him. There wasn't much a few wizards could do to one of the five first beings in all of creation.

Hermione didn't have much time to consider who exactly was attempting to break in, and how to most effectively battle them, because in the next split-second, the door was blown off its hinges and a whole hoard of aurors stormed in. They were easily recognisable by their long, flowing, yet practical red robes and wand and potion vial holsters that were strapped to their various limbs.

One, Harry found, had shocking and very recognisable ginger hair.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron - the lad with the ginger hair - exclaimed, bearing his wand as he stared Harry down. Harry let a small smirk grace his thin lips and then swiftly and elegantly, he stood up. He was shorter than everyone in the room, but in that moment, he felt more majestic and powerful than any of them put together. The Aurors - three of them in total - all cowered for a brief moment, but as elite, highly-trained, specialist officers, they refused to completely back down.

The oldest of them all - a grey haired, grim faced elderly man - stepped forwards and reached out with a hand. A set of leather bands hung limply from his fingers and after a short moment, Harry realised that they were meant to be magical hand-cuffs; unbreakable. "You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything-" The officer started saying but Harry interrupted him with a loud snort.

"You're arresting me?" He asked incredulously. Hermione hung to Ron's side, evidently debating on whose side to take. The third Auror - a man only slightly younger than Ron - scowled angrily and after a moment, Harry recognised him: Zacharias Smith.

"On what grounds?" Harry challenged when he was met with two twin glares of dislike. Ron kept shooting Harry furtive stares while Hermione whispered into his ear.

"Your arrest has been issued by the Wizengamot, Mr Potter. You may choose to come civilly and quietly. If not, you will be forcibly arrested," the grey-haired Auror said tonelessly. Harry smirked.

"Like Hell. Voldemort is gone because of me and a bunch of other people who fought valiantly in the Battle of Hogwarts. People who would have willingly given their lives to get rid of him - many did," Harry bit out sharply. Smith even recoiled at the harshness and coldness in the Archangel's eyes.

Smith and the grey-haired man raised their wands, evidently now resorting to more aggressive means. For a moment, Ron seemed to hesitate, but then he too raised his wand. Harry's eyes darkened in betrayal. To the Weasley's side, he noticed Hermione stiffen in fear and he realised that she actually feared for Ron's life.

"You _dare_ threaten me?" Harry said quite calmly, but dangerously. He made no move to withdraw a wand or even a weapon and that very lack of movement seemed to actually unsettle the oldest Auror.

"We have a court order that states that if we find you we have to arrest you and we have to use any means necessary," Smith snarled out, reaching into his inner cloak pocket only to pull out a scroll with a formal Ministry of Magic seal. Harry wiggled his fingers dismissively at it and in an instant it burst into flames. Smith yelped in surprise and pain as the fire burnt his finger-tips.

Both Ron and the grey-haired Auror stared at him in slack-jawed amazement.

"Now," Harry said, stretching luxuriously and completely disregarding the wands pointed his way. "You _must_ excuse me. I'm a bit late for my Council of Elrond meeting - you see, we're actually trying to do some proper work and _stop the bloody apocalypse._ " ***4**

He only briefly registered the two Aurors lunging at him and Ron hanging back before he - Lucifer himself - burst into beautiful and dangerous celestial light - pure energy and Grace. With a blast of his own Grace he forced Hermione and Ron's eyelids down and then, in an instant he was gone; leaving the two Aurors on the ground while they clutched their empty sockets in unimaginable pain.

.

Flying back to America was much more different than his trip down to England had been. His flight to Hermione's cottage had been hectic; his only objective had been to get there as quickly as he could, gracefulness and aesthetics had had nothing to do with it. Not to mention, that had been the first time he'd flown in the last few millennia.

It was different this time; he had actually, properly let his wings manifest for a brief moment (and he was actually pretty sure that he'd burnt out the two Aurors' eyes) and then he'd been off. Flying had come back to him like some sort instinct - something that he'd been subconsciously yearning to do all of these years. And somehow, he'd even tried to fill that hole by playing quidditch and spending several dozen hours a week in the air during quidditch practice.

But this was so much better.

When flying, he existed strictly on a metaphysical plane. He felt the earth and he felt his own physical body disintegrating and attaching itself to his Grace so that it could be transported. His six-hundred wings were beautifully spread out on either side of him, giving him a cocoon of security and warmth.

Closing his proverbial eyes, Harry let the 'currents' so to speak guide him - the long way round - back to America. There was something beautiful about flying, something completely freeing. When airborne, it was as though he truly _did_ have free-will. _He_ controlled his wings, he told them what to do; no one could manipulate him in this state.

He was so deep in thought, and in so in elation, that he never noticed the hard, tough solid mass somehow bludgeon itself into him, knocking the air out of his proverbial lungs. Almost instantly, he was thrown out of the metaphysical plane and into the purely physical one. For a moment, Harry just lay there, in that small clearing in the corn field, catching his breath.

The next second, another person was looming in front of him.

Almost instantly, Harry scrambled to his feet, eyes widening in shock and fear as he realised exactly who the person standing in front of him was. His physical body was young and light-haired. He had an innocent expression and completely blank eyes, as though he were dead. Considering the effect Archangels usually had on their vessels, Harry thought it was safe to assume that that assessment was probably true anyway.

Physical vessel aside; it was hard to ignore the six pairs of large, cream-coloured wings that sprouted out of his back. They were completely spread out and inclined; the traditional threatening pose that Angel's usually took when tensing before an attack. The wings weren't as magnificent as Lucifer's, nor were they as large; but there was a certain gravitas and… _age_ about them that couldn't go unnoticed.

"Michael," Harry slowly acknowledged. Michael, equally as emotionlessly, inclined his head.

"Lucifer."

"It's good to see you Michael," Harry said, eyes darting around, looking for escape-routes. There was no way he would be fighting Michael tonight; not when he didn't have his memories of full capacity yet. Stalling was the next best thing he could do.

His elder brother cocked his head to the side as though inspecting some sort of unique insect. "It's been far too long," he said, voice calm.

"Could've been a little longer," Harry commented, briefly waggling his eyebrows. Michael didn't seem to appreciate the gesture and a small frown appeared on his forehead.

"I see your disrespect for me has not waned."

Harry snorted. "Like I ever respected you - not in this incarnation at least. You were alway little daddy's boy." Michael's frown deepened.

"I am simply fulfilling our fathers will," he said. Harry gulped uncertainly having raised that there weren't really escape routes. Sure, he could attempt to fly away, but he still hadn't regained his memories and his flying skills would be completely based on instinct; Michael would catch up with him in no time.

"And you do not question our father's will? You do not question this Apocalypse and the three _billion_ people that will die if you achieve this goal?" Harry demanded, voice raising slightly. Michael sighed defeatedly as though realising that they'd had this fight several times now and with a startled, silent gasp, Harry suddenly understood that he - Lucifer - and Michael had probably had several discussion like this in the past.

"Our father is right therefore so is the apocalypse because he commanded it," Michael said, voice a monotone; nevertheless, a dark storm was brewing behind his previously bland eyes.

Harry laughed heartily. "Do you realise how much of a slave you are, Michael?"

Said Archangel's eyes widened in fury and he took a few sharp steps to Harry; his vessel was taller than Harry's and he towered over the latter with no problem. "I am _not_ a slave," he hissed out. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No? Well, how do you explain the blind faith you have in Him? He's been gone for a long time now; yeah we know He's not dead, but He's gone and you're still following his orders!"

"I am a good son!" Michael spat furiously. Harry rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling more like Lucifer (in the presence of Michael) than he'd ever had. They were standing so close now, staring each other down, that Harry could have even leaned in for a hug. Then again, Michael probably wouldn't appreciate that gesture that much.

"Do you know why I was flung out of Heaven?"

Confusion briefly flashed through Michael's face. He regarded Harry's calm demeanour and after a moment took a few steps back; however, Harry saw a large, silver-plated short-sword suddenly appear in his hand.

"You waged a war against our father - a despicable war of evil." Michael's face had twisted into something darker and more evil. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You've got it all wrong, Michael. That wasn't the reason." Harry sighed and enjoyed the brief bemusement that once more quickly riddled his elder brothers' eyes. "I have been vilified since the beginning of time, for _questioning authority._ For simply asking and authoritarian, 'why'. I was - am - and anti-authoritarian and I was prideful and that is an emotion - a characteristic - that has been handed down over the generations as an evil thing when it's not: it's made me feel that although I am just a bloody insignificant wizard, actually I'm just standing up for the principle of autonomy. The principle of independence, the principle of your own mind directing your action." ***5**

"Dad didn't like that. One of His sons _dared_ to question His ultimate judgement? Oh no, He wasn't going to have that, so He flung - He thew me out of Heaven," Harry said, lip curling. Michael did not move nor say anything so Harry continued. "And when He visited me in my Cage, when I had prayed and cried, He gave me a choice; stay there for eternity or be reborn as a Human and learn my lesson."

"And don't you see," Harry continued, staring his older brother down. "It worked!" Harry made a violent gesture with his arms. "Just look at me! It really worked! I have been a human; I cannot imagine myself fighting them. I have allowed myself, as a human, to become institutionalised; I follow the moral codes and authoritarianisms. He, our father, has achieved his goal - even if I am worse off now."

Michael regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment that seemed to drag on forever. "Be as that may," he started and Harry's heart already sunk. "It is our father's will to have us fight and for me to rid this world of all evil."

"Oh Michael," Harry said with slight sympathy. To have such blind faith in someone… well it reminded him too much of his early years at Hogwarts. "Our father reincarnated me because He wanted his son back; have you never considered it odd that he left my free-will intact? Perhaps his originally, He hadn't seen any other choice than to rid Heaven of the rebellious leader; but why would he reincarnate me with my free-will and my wings if he didn't think I was doing something right?

"Yes, I do not intend to start the Apocalypse and I am willing to listen to Him, but my free-will, my autonomous thought isn't completely gone, Michael so if your God is so ' _right'_ why did he leave in that little flaw design?"

Michael's jaw actually trembled in fury; his whole body tensed and in a split second, Harry knew what was going to happen now. With less than a thought, he commanded his Grace to materialise his own sword and for a shocked moment, stared at his hand which was now wrapped around a long, elegant short-sword.

He didn't have more time to consider its aesthetics because in the next moment, Michael flung himself at Harry. The latter attempted to get out of the way, but Michael easily swung his sword at the brilliantly white wing.

Hot pain seared through Harry's entire back and he let out a loud whimper. Michael smirked and after a short moment, Harry realised that the Archangel was actually taking pleasure in this in some weird, sadistic yet loving way. "This is not right!" Harry growled out as their swords clashed harshly; sparks lit up Michael's face.

"Your destruction is right!" Michael growled out as he briefly spun around to avoid one of Harry's half-hearted attacks.

"If it's so right then why are you doing it here?" Harry managed to exclaim between attacks. "Our confrontation - if it ever happens - was not meant to happen here, Michael!"

This assessment only seemed to infuriate Michael even more, because his blows, parries and jabs became all the more vicious. Harry, who only had his instincts and muscle memory, found himself panting and stumbling to catch up. His brief, if accurate, assessment of the situation caused a brief hole in Harry's defence and thusly was a small mistake; minute enough that the regular Joe wouldn't see, but for Michael it was enough.

Michael's large fist connected with his jaw and his sword sharply cut into Harry's gut. In an instant, Harry was thrown to the other side of the field. He landed with a dull thump and groaned as he realised that his jaw was completely loose. He rolled onto his back and groaned when that too, sent hot flashes of pain up and down his body.

These were wounds made by an Archangel's sword. Grace wouldn't be able to heal them up as quickly as it usually could. Nevertheless, Harry sent a large spike of Grace at his jaw to repair it enough so that he could speak, even if it remained painful. With a flutter of wings, Michael appeared in front of him.

In his hand, he held a bloodied, but still aesthetically pleasing sword - it was pointed down at Harry.

"You see brother, it was always destined to end this way," Michael said, suddenly sounding much more patronising than he usually was. Something akin to pain and horror flashed behind his eyes, but that was quickly buried. Harry guessed that that was the side of him that actually did _not_ want to murder his younger brother.

It occurred suddenly to Harry that this _was_ probably his end. Michael stood victoriously before him, his sword in hand. Harry's own weapon lay several feet behind his elder brother and there was literally no way that the younger Archangel would be able to reach it.

"Don't do this, brother," Harry wheezed, finally calling him something other then Michael. For a moment, Michael seemed to actually freeze at being called that by someone. Harry spat out a huge ball of saliva and blood. "Even if you kill me; it is not meant to happen here."

"Oooh, so much angst! I shoulda brought the Winchesters to show them how it's really done!" The sharp and happy voice was a very sudden and jarring sound in the small and desolate cleaning in the corn-field. Almost in an instant, Harry let out a sigh of relief, realising exactly who had come to his rescue.

Gabriel stood on the other side of the clearing, smirking as he gazed at Michael. It was all an act though; Harry was pretty sure Lucifer and Gabriel had liked most before his Fall, and in the last few months, he had gotten to know him pretty well. His little brother used this little cocky act as some sort of defence mechanism.

Harry sighed in relief when Michael's hold on his sword slackened and he turned around to face Gabriel. His little brother would manage to annoy and distract the eldest Archangel for a few moments while Harry attempted to stitch himself up - as best he could, anyway.

"Gabriel," he managed to wheeze out. Michael said nothing and continued staring Gabriel down.

"Dude," the youngest Archangel continued flippantly. "I got some 'hanky-panky' last time someone looked at me like that," Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Harry would have rolled his eyes at his younger brother's daring if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"You have not changed, Gabriel," Michael said in that monotonous voice. Gabriel laughed heartily, but even so, his sword appeared in his hand. For a moment, Harry felt pride and something akin to warmth spread out in his chest; his little brother was willing to fight for him, never mind how dangerous it could become.

This thought alone, brought Harry to his feet and with an exhausted wave of his hand, his own sword reappeared in his hand. "You can fight one of us, Michael," Harry growled out, but even to him, his voice sounded weak. Michael's head turned minutely to steal a glance at Harry. "But you can't fight us both at the same time."

For a moment, Michael actually seemed to consider the latter option but then, he bowed his head and turned to stare at Harry. "This is not over, Lucifer." And then he was gone.

"Luce-!" Gabriel exclaimed suddenly when Harry's legs wobbled and then bucked under him. He toppled to the ground and pain shot up his body once more.

"Gabe," Harry whispered out, feeling himself already going weaker. "My magic is restricting m-my Grace. I-I can't get my memories b-back or get to full power with them th-there."

"God, how do you want me do that!" Gabriel said harshly. His usually perfectly styled hair was actually sweaty and it was falling into his face so the Archangel rushed a hand through it to settle it back into a more practical position.

Harry bit his lip, knowing full well that he was slipping away. "M-make a clone."

And he was gone.

.

Considering that they hadn't known him for a long time, Sam was actually enormously affected by Lucifer's 'death'. He wasn't actually sure what the specifics were, but from what Gabriel had told them, Harry had been attacked by Michael and apparently Archangel swords left much longer lasting wounds than normal blades.

And then apparently, Harry's wizard magic was impeding him from reaching his full potential to heal himself so as a result, they had to separate the magic from the Grace. Sam wasn't sure what the technicalities were; Gabriel hadn't gone into specifics, but apparently, a custom-made clone could possibly hold magic as a host - like a dead body without a soul to power it.

This would also, according to Gabriel, force the Grace to regain dominance in Harry's body, heal him up, and actually force his memories as Lucifer to come to the fore-front of the ex-wizards mind. As a result, Harry Potter was essentially no more.

And the body - the corpse - that lay in the shallow grave in front of them was proof of that. Currently, Castiel, Dean, Gabriel, Sam and Bobby stood in the latter's back garden, in a sense paying their respects to the late Harry Potter. It was disconcerting to see Harry Potter's cloned corpse lying in this very elaborate coffin (which Gabriel had conjured) and knowing that it was not the actual person. The real person had actually taken over Sam's bed and was currently sleeping the entire magic-from-Grace-separating-procedure off.

Upon appearing in Bobby's living room with two identical Harry Potter bodies (corpses! Sam's mind had screamed at the time) Gabriel had explained that to speed up Harry's healing process he had been forced to take Harry's magic and feed it to an identical clone that was in essence already dead. As a result, the Harry Potter they all knew was now dead and soon, Lucifer would rise from the ashes.

And that was why they now stood around the small grave, gazing at the young man who had apparently already sacrificed so much. Survived (according to Gabriel) six years of deadly magical education, an emotionally abusive and neglectful household and several encounters with a Dark Lord. So in a way, Sam lamented the loss of their almost-friend, Harry Potter.

Once they had covered the coffin with dirt and had set up a small gravestone (Gabriel insisted on carving a line within a circle within a triangle into it - Sam had no idea why), they all morosely wandered back to the house, where they were greeted by a mourning K-9. Gabriel declared that he would be taking first watch and disappeared, presumably to Sam's bedroom to take care of Harry - _Lucifer -_ while he slept.

So when hours later, when Dean had already brought out the whiskey and had somehow managed to convince Castiel to drink several bottles of it, they all heard a loud shout and a crash from upstairs, they knew… _knew_ that _the Devil_ had awoken.

* * *

 **Worry not! Michael is not going to be a purely 2-dimensional figure! He'll be pretty badass later on. That said, I just realised I only have ca. three more chapters to write. God, I might actually end up finishing this story!**

 **I am going to leave you wondering whether Hermione intentionally called the Aurors or not. ha, I'm actually evil (well, tbh, I probably am... I am the second oldest of four children, I spoil the youngest silly, I have a dachshund (Mark pellegrino has one too) and I am the black sheep of the family... Hm... Do you see the similarities with someone else? Also, one of my little brothers is called Gabriel (no joke))... there are endless other similarities but those are the most obvious ones. XD**

 **ANs:**

 ***1:** Google Diogenes if you don't know him. Also, he is one of Harry's incarnations, kudos to you if you recognised that. XD

 ***2:** Jeremy Betham was a utalitarian that devised that whole theory of 'for the greater good'. I guess he was Dumbledore's idol.

 ***3:** 'run to you' actually, this is sort of a private joke because I have managed to put this sentence in EVERY single ff I have ever written. *giggles*

 ***4:** The Council of Elrond was the secret council called by Elrond in Rivendell in order to decide what should be done with the One Ring.

*5: Part of Harry's monologue about authoritarianism is from a convention where Mark very passionately spoke about the subject.

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **AnotherGuest:** Thank you!

 **EternalFlame:** Omg thank you! hahaha and yeah, the Picture of Dorian Gray is probably one of my all-time favourite books!


	12. Chapter 11

**Omg guess what, I'm not dead. I haven't updated in ca. a month but I've been... drowning under school-work. Fear not! I have not abandoned this story...! Has anyone watched the first few episodes of spn s12? are you liking it?**

* * *

 _Lucifer_ _laughed not unkindly as Gabriel fluttered his wings, glided for a second or two and then fell face-forward into the ground. The younger Archangel shot him a brief glare which only caused Lucifer's laugh to intensify. Lucifer approached his younger brother, still grinning as his laugh abated._

 _"_ _You're doing it wrong, little brother," Lucifer murmured, placing a hand on the other Archangel's shoulder. "But fear not, we'll get there." Gabriel's adorable little mock-frown wobbled as he looked up at his brother. Then very suddenly, that frown turned into a full-blown grin and Lucifer rolled his eyes; Gabriel was, as usual attempting to trick him into thinking that he was insulted._

 _Lucifer stretched out his wings, relishing the feeling of the Earth's wind against them and glanced down at Gabriel. The younger Archangel was staring at the appendages with wonder; his little mouth had formed a small, round 'o' and his eyes were complimentarily wide. "Position them like so," Lucifer instructed, jerking Gabriel's attention back to his voice. His little brother nodded feverishly, joined him at the edge of the cliff and then similarly allowed his bright yet considerably smaller wings to stretch out._

 _The Morning Star nodded patiently. "Good, and now tilt them forwards - yes right like that - and now flap them! At the same time!"_

 _Gabriel let out a small 'mhpf' as he jumped off the cliff - as high as he could - and then proceeded to attempt to gain some thrust. Lucifer rolled his eyes as he watched Gabriel tumble down to the ground: it seemed that taking-off wasn't one of Gabriel's talents. Lucifer didn't move and instead watched with a slightly cocked head as Gabriel continued falling. However his faith in his little brother hadn't been misplaced as suddenly, seconds later, Gabriel's wingspan stretched out in instinct._

 _Almost instantly, a current of wind caught him and then Gabriel was… gliding. Said Archangel let out a whoop of delight as he continued gliding, using that current of wind to help himself along. Lucifer felt his heart swell with sudden pride and he launched himself after his brother. With one powerful flap of his wings, he transported himself to Gabriel's side._

 _"_ _Look Luci! I'm flying!" Gabriel's face was flushed and he was grinning from ear to ear - his eyes were wide and his wings were trembling with excitement. Lucifer mirrored his enthusiasm with a large grin and for a moment, nothing else mattered - not even their aunt's furious temper tantrums._

 _"_ _So you are," Lucifer replied somewhat more calmly and then proceeded to grab his little brother and tickle him all the way back to Heaven._

 _._

 _"_ _Father has requested your attendance, Lucifer," Michael's voice echoed in the Angel equivalent of a human mind and for a moment, Lucifer just stared ahead, knowing that the time had finally come. A shudder of anticipation and horror shook his body and he felt a sudden wave of betrayal wash over him._

 _However, it would not do to disobey his Father so blatantly and with a quick flutter of wings, Lucifer transported himself to his Father's garden. Said being was standing over a thorn-bush, gently passing his fingers over it, healing the pesticides that had managed to attach themselves to the plant._

 _Lucifer watched with vague fascination as almost at once, the bush rightened itself and glowed a little as his Father once more filled it with his presence, as thought to make sure that it had been completely healed of its illness. ***1**_

 _"_ _My son," his Father murmured as he turned around, a small, proud smile passing his lips. Lucifer bowed his head in acknowledgement and his Father approached him. "My dear son," his Father repeated._

 _"_ _The time has come, hasn't it?" Lucifer asked after a moment of comfortable, yet uncertain silence. His eyes found his Father's and he felt a sudden ball of apprehension grow in his chest when he saw worry in that face. Their Father was supposed to be absolute; all-powerful and all-knowing, he was not supposed to feel apprehension or worry._

 _"_ _My sister has been imprisoned… and now, my son, the task falls to you to hold the key." A genuine expression of regret graced his Father's face as he grasped Lucifer's shoulder._

 _"_ _You have been chosen, Lucifer, because you are the bravest and strongest of all my children. Bear the mark with pride, not with hate and do not let it over-power-"_

 _._

-His consciousness jerked to wakefulness in a few seconds flat.

It was odd; it felt like waking from a long, dull slumber to a bright and colourful world. Of course, angels didn't dream or sleep, but his Human side remembered experiencing dreams and the first few moment of wakefulness. He didn't dare open his eyes, sure that someone was probably watching over him; he needed some time to sort everything out first.

He was Lucifer. But not quite - Harry's memory's flowed chaotically through his angelic mind, making him doubt his own identity. Gently he wiggled his fingers, for once actually experiencing the Grace that filled this body to the brim. It felt odd for his Grace to manifest in such a way. The Cage has been a raw, genuine place: in there, he hadn't been restricted to one single human form, instead he had manifested in his majestic, angelic form: a being with three heads, six hundred wings and two tails.

Now however, he could feel Harry's body straining under the power of the Grace: the body felt like a slightly ill-fitting glove which didn't quite allow him to properly bend his fingers. But it would have to do, for the time being anyhow.

Memories swam in and out of focus. Some angelic, some human.

All around him he could hear voices and concentrating on a particularly loud cluster of them, he very suddenly realised that the people speaking were in fact not people but Angels. Harry's body was unused to hearing the subtleties of the Enochian tongue and for a moment, Lucifer had trouble understanding what was being said.

 _"_ _Lucifer has arisen,_ " whispered one voice in a conspiratory manner. Lucifer scrunched up his forehead; he was pretty sure he recognised that voice.

" _The Adversary walks the Earth,_ " said another. There was a grumble from a third entity, who like Lucifer, was eavesdropping on the conversation.

" _Bloody hell, Angels are always so melodramatic,_ " said the third Angel and Lucifer actually had to fight his human instincts not to laugh. ***2**

However, it seemed that Lucifer hadn't quite managed to mask his inner turmoil or amusement, because he suddenly felt someone place a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Almost instantly, Lucifer's upper body shot up into a sitting position; his eyes snapped open and he turned to stare a the owner of said hand: Gabriel.

"My God-"

"-God has nothing to do with anything," Lucifer interrupted cleanly, turning his heavy gaze onto Gabriel. His little brother seemed to almost shrink before him and he lowered his gaze slightly. All of a sudden, Lucifer realised that his wings were spread out in a threatening posture. After so many years of living only as a subconscious thought in the minds the humans he had been reincarnated as, it was only logical that he still had to gain some control over his metaphysical body.

"…Lucifer," the word spilled out from Gabriel's mouth, sounding slightly pitiful. Lucifer took a deep breath. He couldn't deal with this right now: his human emotions conflicting with his own angelic emotions - no, he had to sort them all out first.

He stood up and moved to fly away, when something hot and wet brushed over his hand. For a moment, Lucifer just stared ahead, unsure what had happened; it seemed his angelic mind still hadn't completely adjusted to human touch. Glancing down, Lucifer noticed very suddenly that Gabriel's dog - K9 (a clearly intentional pun) - was staring up at him with the typical stare that humans liked to call 'puppy dog stare'. His head was cocked to the side in confusion as though he understood that logically, this was Harry's body, but it wasn't in fact a Human Harry inhabiting said body.

Gently, and a touch uncertainly, Lucifer pressed the tips of his fingers onto K-9's head. The corgi preened a little and let out an uncharacteristic purr. The Archangel smiled softly; he saw it now, the Grace and the latent power churning inside the dog. Somehow, Gabriel had managed to find a dog that could hold a portion of his Grace and his overpowering Trickster magic so that his own body wouldn't implode from both energies. And over the years, somehow, this odd collection of energy had mutated into a new dog soul, infused with Trickster magic and Grace, causing the dog to be overly-intelligent and sensitive to energies and souls.

"We had to separate Harry's magic from your Grace so that you could survive," Gabriel said somewhat quietly. It seemed that even after all of these years, his respect for and slight fear of Lucifer had not waned. Said Archangel raised an eyebrow as he examined his own inner energies. Harry's soul - that had been composed of his own Grace - had reverted itself into it's primal ingredient and was currently chumming up the rest of his Grace. Harry's magic was gone; but it had left an unexpected human imprint.

Letting out a low hum, Lucifer glanced at Gabriel again. "Indeed."

"So, uh, how do you feel, Luci?" The Archangel in question shot his brother a sharp glance: it had been a long time since anyone had called him that.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, gazing at his brother with mock confusion. "Do you mean… am I going on a murdering spree anytime soon?" He asked in a mockingly high tone. Gabriel coughed uncomfortably and shifted on his three-legged stool.

When it became evident that Gabriel wasn't going to answer him verbally, Lucifer rightened himself and smirked somewhat coldly. "You wouldn't have woken me if you hadn't thought that I would be on your side, Gabriel. Your faith in me really does astound me," Lucifer said completely sincerely. "I would have thought that you would… doubt the Devil's word."

"The _Devil_ also happens to be my _brother_ ," Gabriel replied with a sudden, unexpected fire in his eye. Lucifer cocked his head to the side again.

"Abel's _brother_ was also a _murderer_ ," Lucifer pointed out with a small smirk.

"Do you _want_ me to view you as a murderer?" Gabriel replied scathingly and for a moment, Lucifer's facade dropped and he deflated.

"That was never my intention, brother," Lucifer said lowly, gaze dropping briefly. Gabriel's body gave a small shudder at being called _that_ ; it seemed he'd been craving his family too. "I was prideful and _so sure that I was right_." Lucifer folded his hands behind his back, uncertain as to what exactly one should do with such appendages. "Father created a perfect world, wondrous, infallible and beautiful and then," he bared his teeth slightly in disgust, "He created Humans."

"I thought you prayed for forgiveness in the cage - I thought you recognised your mistakes," Gabriel said, frowning. Lucifer laughed hollowly.

"Oh, yes, I prayed for forgiveness - for reacting the way I did. I will never apologise for my opinion, though. Humans were and always will be abominations compared to the purity of our Father. They do not deserve to be created in His image; that is my problem with them."

Gabriel bit his lip uncertainly, evidently having some trouble accepting what Lucifer was telling him. Said Archangel snorted derisively. " _I_ was the virtuous one, _I_ was the Light-Bringer and I was just and I was right. _Father_ came to us and told us that His acceptance of us was going to be predicated upon this: We had to love and admire the virtueless Humans and we had to _serve them._ I refused and then I was disowned," Lucifer bit out. He felt a certain, familiar fire start up in his gut and he stomped it down. No, his father had already forgiven him for his actions - he would not start another rebellion.

"I think," he continued eagerly when he noticed that some measure of acceptance and understanding had appeared in Gabriel's eyes. "I am righteous in claiming that my sense of justice was completely violated - because my _virtue_ was being held as the servant device. _"_

 _"_ That isn't a justification for the crap you did, Luce," Gabriel whispered somewhat forlornly. Lucifer licked his drying lips and then gently shook his head.

"No, it isn't - my reaction was not just nor virtuous. _This_ is a justification for my belief." For a moment, the entire room was completely silent. Downstairs, Lucifer could hear the dull mumble of conversation and if he concentrated enough, he could even sense Castiel's underwhelming Grace - compared to Gabriel's anyhow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lucifer could still hear the Angels' conversations which were by now merely whispers. In the cage, Lucifer had been deprived from this intimate connection with his family and now that he had it, he suddenly felt more at home than he had for several millennia.

As for his little brother; the other Archangel was still sitting on the stool, eyes wide with sudden realisation as though he finally _understood,_ as though he finally had all of the facts and could finally, properly evaluate the situation. "I understand," Gabriel finally said quietly and for a moment, Lucifer knew what acceptance and family was.

"Tell the Winchesters… that I am alright," Lucifer said, standing up again and readying his wings for flight. "I will be back very soon."

And just as he was taking off, Lucifer felt a small, mischievous smirk crawl onto his lips and he wiggled his fingers. In an instant, the third leg of Gabriel's rickety stool snapped. For a moment, the stool balanced on two legs, but Gabriel - like any other physical form on Earth - was no match for gravity and he toppled to the ground with a resounding crash.

.

Hell was familiar and Lucifer as it's God and Leader knew every inch, every nook and crevice as though it were his own body. Nevertheless, it had never felt like home, nor did it feel like it now. The hot flames of despair, hate and sin licked at his wings, which in an environment such as this, could be seen by those who knew and understood what they were. ***3**

He had arrived in the Vestibule of Hell - a generally harmless circle of Hell. It served as a welcome to those who arrived here after death. It was here where souls were grabbed by various demons and brought to their corresponding circle of Hell. As such, a banner hung from the gates: _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate_ , the Italian version of the phrase 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here'.

Flight was hard in Hell so Lucifer has restricted to passing - floating - from place to place in a mixture of an avatar of his true form and his human body. He crossed the river Acheron without much trouble and quickly found himself in the actual first circle of Hell: Limbo. Virgil resided here and lorded over his subjects: the unbaptised and the virtuous pagans, who although not sinful, had not accepted Christ.

This was also coincidentally the administrational area of Hell and specifically: the place where he was most likely to find the King of Hell. Hell was supposed to me a metaphysical plane; a place where people who upon arriving in the vestibule judged themselves and then tortured themselves with remorse and their own sins for eternity… However, it seemed that someone had restructured it into a fallacy - a parody - of what it had once been.

Demons crawled all over the place, snatching souls and torturing them out of pure glee. This was not how Hell was supposed to function; this was not the Hell that _he_ had once built brick by brick. Feeling his anger growing, Lucifer descended deeper into the first circle of Hell, in search for the Palace that he was most certainly sure that… _Crowley_ had built.

And there! There it was: a dark romanesque castle. It stood at the edge of the Asphodel Fields, towering over the souls of tortured human souls who were in turn, being tortured by Demon souls. Some Demons turned to stare at him as he passed, sensing his overpowering Grace; a source of light that was rarely found here in Hell.

A guard stood by the gates and he bowed deeply upon seeing Lucifer; evidently these Demons still believed him to be their father and their lord. Well, Lucifer had no problem exploiting that as long as he could. Servants and members of the court of Hell turned to stare at him as he walked past them; many bowed, some shook with fear and awe while Lucifer's light - his angelic Grace - cast beautiful rays of light in the dark corridors.

And then finally he arrived at the dead centre of the castle: the throne room. He barely even glanced at the guards standing at the doors and they bowed deeply, shaking with terror; the doors were swung open and Lucifer languidly strolled in.

Crowley was seated on his throne, eyes wandering over some kind of scroll. Lucifer almost snorted. A salesman on the throne of Hell? _This_ was the reason why Hell's original principles, it's original structure had been destroyed to be replaced with… _this._

"L-Lucifer," Crowley mumbled when he sensed exactly who - what - had come into this throne room. His eyes were wide and filled with fear; but then again, Lucifer couldn't really blame him, after all, the last time he had met this Demon he had terrified him into revealing how to summon Death.

"Yes - our conversation is long overdue, don't you agree?" He asked in a bland tone. Crowley slipped off his throne only to fall to his knees. Lucifer rolled his eyes at the extreme display of fear. Crowley would never lower himself to such standards unless he was sucking up to someone. Nevertheless, he was nodding feverishly with clear sincerity in his expression which Lucifer didn't buy for a second.

"Don't grovel, Crowley. Even for you that's disgusting," Lucifer paused as Crowley stood up and stared straight ahead like a good little soldier. Still sucking up, then. "You are a… salesman, Demon. You are not fit to be King of such a realm."

Crowley's jaw floundered for a moment and Lucifer smirked. "You run this place as one would a corporation. Hell was not meant to be like this."

"Might I inquire as to what your intentions, regarding Hell are, sire?" Crowley asked with a completely false tone of sincerity. Lucifer was sure that if he gave the Demon a chance to kill him or even just maim or entrap him, Crowley would seize it. Backstabbing cockroach.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side. "Hell was not meant to be restrained in such a way. The vestibule exists for a reason - people were meant to judge themselves there and then their respective guilt and remorse was to be enough punishment. That is, after all, the ultimate human torture. You have transformed it into a parody - deals and contracts with Humans? Those are cheap tricks, Crowley. Only a _coward_ would use such tricks," he paused and straightened his head.

"Demons disgust me, more so than humans," Lucifer said and patted Crowley's cheek condescendingly while the Demon's eyes bulged slightly. "I have no wish to reign over Hell; in actual fact, I would much rather see you burn," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But, your existence as the lights opposite holds the world in a balance. I once tried to disturb that balance and nothing good came of it." ***4**

"Am I to be King then?" Crowley said in a chocked voice. Lucifer smirked amusedly.

"Azazel would be a good replacement."

"The yellow-eyed-Demon?" Crowley exclaimed, surprise colouring his tone.

Lucifer's frown deepened. "Yes, I believe that is what he is called."

"John Winchester offed him!" Crowley couldn't help the delight that coloured his voice. Evidently he assumed that if Azazel was gone, then he was next on the list. Lucifer's frown deepened. Well, that certainly put a dent in his plans. Everything would have gone much quicker with Azazel at his side; his loyal servant since he became a Demon… for a Demon he had had a certain curious wit and intellect, which most lacked.

"And what of the Knights of Hell? All murdered too?" They had still seen the glory of Hell when it had still worked as it should. Crowley twitched uncomfortably.

"All dead - except for Cain. He has exiled himself."

Lucifer moved away from Crowley and paced for a bit, considering his options. Finally, he turned back to Crowley. "Very, well, I command you to find Cain. Until such time, you will remain King of Hell and begin restructuring it."

He flapped his wings once and was gone before Crowley even had the chance to retort.

.

It was the 31st of October. Halloween. The first day of Allhallowtide. Day of Samhain. However, out of all of these titles, the one that stuck out the most was 'Death of Lily and James Potter' and 'Defeat of the Dark Lord'. Lucifer supposed that this was his life as Harry Potter influencing his thought process. He felt remorse and sorrow and he mourned their deaths. It felt alien though, to mourn another's death when he had not known these people.

Nevertheless, it seemed as though he had been sufficiently influenced by Harry's memories to feel guilt for not showing his parents respect and mourning. As such, he now sat in the church adjacent to the cemetery where Harry's parents were buried.

The church was largely empty, a few people were mumbling to themselves or holding a rosary and praying. It confused Lucifer that all of these people could have such a devotion to his Father and that many loved him so unconditionally. Many made excuses for him; for his absence, for his inactivity, yet Lucifer couldn't fathom believing in his Father as much as he had before his Fall.

And also sitting at one such bench - third one from the front - was Lucifer. An old lady was sitting a few metres away, praying, but occasionally she shot him odd stares; he assumed it was because of his slightly singed clothes - Hell was, after all, not a walk in the park. Laying next to him, was however, a bag. This bag was filled with three of the probably most invaluable religious texts of all time. Three tablets; all filled with little scribblings that the Scribe of God, Metatron had once jotted down. One about the Leviathans, another about Demons and the last one about Angels.

It was the latter one that interested Lucifer the most:after all, it had the potential to tell him how to defeat Michael. Lucifer licked his lips uncertainly: Michael was as usual being a moron, a completely complacent and obedient son. So long as he behaved in such a way, there would be no way to resolve their current situation. It infuriated him that Michael refused to think independently; that he refused to question orders that had been given to him thousands of years ago.

There had to have been a reason why their Father had released Lucifer from the Cage and while the Fallen Archangel disliked Him and His methods, it was also fairly evident that said entity did not want to start the Apocalypse. He had thrown His original plan down the rubbish shoot; why couldn't Michael see that?

"You seem troubled," said a low but concerned voice. Lucifer's eyes wandered from his eyes and the father - the priest - that now stood before him. His expression was kind and his eyebrows were drawn into a concerned frown. Lucifer snorted.

"Yeah, you could say that." The father waited for a further explanation, but when nothing came, he pushed the bag with the tablets to the side and sat down next to Lucifer. Said Archangel was biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cracking a smile at the irony of it all - a father consorting with the Devil?

"And what is it that troubles you?" The father said kindly. Lucifer turned to him, a sceptical look in his eye. A priest - _a human -_ was trying to psychoanalyse him? Like _Hell_ that was gonna happen.

"Murder, the Apocalypse, also my Dad is pretty pissed at me and I'm probably going to have to kill some of my brothers and my sisters," Lucifer said in a very matter-of-fact tone and a small smirk curled his lips upwards when he saw the father's eyes budge in shock.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," the father said slowly, as if unsure what to say; then again, if Lucifer were a human he would be too.

"Oh wow, Satan in a church? Who'd a thunk it?"

Both, the priest and Lucifer spun around in search for the owner of the new voice **:** Gabriel sat, sprawled over one of the benches in the row behind Lucifer's, sucking on a lollypop. He looked completely at ease - in his element - as he stared straight at Lucifer, a smug smirk playing on his lips. Lucifer rolled his eyes, used to Gabriel's erratic and trickster-y antics… and oddly, he welcomed them; it was like having a family again.

The father, however, was intermittently staring at Lucifer and Gabriel; eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Noticing his expression, Gabriel's smirk widened and he snapped his fingers. A cartoon-like set of bright red horns appeared on Lucifer's head and a large, bright yellow ring of light materialised on top of Gabriel's. "Yeah - that's the Devil and I'm Gabriel."

For a moment, the father's mouth floundered speechlessly and he started blinking rapidly as though trying to figure out wether it was just a hallucination; even Lucifer had to snort a little. But looking around at the lack of reactions from other people, he realised that Gabriel had covered them with some sort of cloak of invisibility that only the father could see through.

Ignoring the father, Lucifer turned back to Gabriel. "How did you find me, Gabriel?"

Said Archangel rolled his eyes. "You do realise that omens follow you wherever you go?" Lucifer made an 'ah' sound and reigned his Grace in: in his anger towards Crowley, and his own sudden awakening, he'd forgotten about hiding his own Grace away.

"Th-The-" Came the sudden stutter from the father's direction and both Archangel's turned to stare at him. The poor man was shaking; he had raised a trembling finger and was pointing it at Lucifer. "The Devil is a-among us!" He exclaimed in a horrified whisper.

"Yeah and we're also in a church; since we're stating the obvious, father," Lucifer replied, somewhat snarkily, before turning back to face Gabriel, now completely dismissing the priest.

Gabriel's smirk had widened and with another snap of his fingers, his illusions disappeared and then with another snap, the priest's entire outfit changed to a 'sexy-devil halloween costume'. The father shrieked out loud and bolted to a nearby ante-chamber. Lucifer let out a (fond!) long-suffering sigh and grabbed the leather bag with the tablets. This action caused Gabriel's gaze to zero on the bag; his eyebrows skyrocketed and he lout out a low whistle.

"Shoulda known that you knew where the tablets were," Gabriel remarked. Lucifer shrugged.

"How do you think I had the power to start the rebellion that I initiated?" Gabriel cocked his head to the side, considering the thought before he came to a sudden realisation and he bolted upright and grasped Lucifer's wrist.

"You're not starting another rebellion, are you?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "No, but I distinctly remember Father dictating to Metatron about the gates of Heaven and how to close them. I need the spell and for that I need-"

"-the Prophet," Gabriel finished for him, looking grim. Seeing the disapproving look in Gabriel's eye, Lucifer elaborated:

"We have three of the four rings - we could send Michael into the cage… but that wouldn't be right, Gabriel. We were meant to fight-" Lucifer jerked his arm back. "-but I'm not going to. The Angels need to resolve their issues amongst themselves before they can truly help the humans and for that they need to be isolated-"

"-So you wanna shut the gates of Heaven," Gabriel said sharply. Lucifer licked his lips uncomfortably.

"The last perfect thing that our Father created was the Earth and Humans have been progressively destroying it in the last few thousands of years. If - when - Michael and I fight, our battle will end up spilling onto the Earth and I will _not_ be responsible for destroying it."

"But the rings-" Gabriel started, but Lucifer was already shaking his head.

"-The rings would only be a temporary solution, little brother. We have to tackle the root of this problem, not the symptoms. And the root is the lack of individual thought and the skewed mission that many Angels still believe in. **"** Lucifer raised his head slightly in defiance, challenging Gabriel to disagree with him. "It's our best option, Gabriel, and you know it."

The other Angel's gaze dropped to the ground and he briefly closed his eyes. It seemed that mingling with humans for so many eons had affected him more than it had any other Angel: his gestures and manner were distinctly human. "Fine… I know I'm gonna regret this later, Luce, but yeah… fine."

The tiniest of smiles appeared on Lucifer's lips and he gently grasped Gabriel's shoulder, and that was all the 'thank you' that the younger Archangel needed.

.

The house looked even worse than even Bobby's, and that was saying something. Lucifer had attempted to fly right into the house, but Gabriel had jerked him back, saying that humans generally got frightened shitless if you appeared in the middle of their living room. So they had appeared just around the block and were now slowly approaching the large, slightly run-down house.

When Lucifer attempted to take the lead, Gabriel playfully shoved him to the side and knocked on the door. Lucifer shot him an annoyed glare, before rightening himself and turning his attention to the now slowly opening door.

"Yeah?" Said a weak-ish voice from the other side. The door opened a few more inches and a head popped out from the crack.

"We're, uh, listen, can we just come in?" Gabriel said with a grin that he was sure looked more like a 'I'm about to prank you' smirk.

The Prophet - Chuck Shurely - wrinkled his nose and glanced over his shoulder. Lucifer and Gabriel heard giggling sounds. "It's not a good time." It was only now that Gabriel noticed that the man was wearing nothing but a robe. "Ok, awkwaaard," Gabriel sung under his breath.

"Well, he's almost as adventurous as Luke," Gabriel remarked to Lucifer who smirked a little.

"L-Luke Skywalker?" Chuck asked uncertainly and Lucifer shot Gabriel a 'this is the prophet?' stare. ***5**

"Ah, no. Less fictitious," Lucifer remarked, voice completely controlled and betraying no emotions. Gabriel rolled his eyes and pushed past Chuck who let out an indignant shout. When Lucifer had shut the door behind him, Gabriel turned to the prophet.

"Dude - that's breaking and entering! You can't just barge in here like that!" Chuck exclaimed, grabbed the phone (which was still emitting giggling sounds) and cancelled the call, before starting to dial the emergency number.

"I wouldn't do that," Lucifer said in a low tone and Gabriel shot him a concerned glance; his brother's temple was sometimes a bit… volatile. Chuck's finger hovered briefly over the green button.

"Why the hell not? You barge into my house, threaten me-"

"I am Gabriel and this is my brother Lucifer," Gabriel said in a conversational tone. Chuck's next words died right in his mouth and for a moment or two he just blinked at them.

"And we need you to help us-" Lucifer pulled out the angel tablet, "-translate this."

* * *

 **So, hi! I hope you're still reading this story... I understand if you have chosen to stop... I haven't updated in a while. Sorry! Also: only one or two chapters left to write... so grab some snacks and popcorn and get ready for the grand finale! wooooo!**

 **also, if you have requests for oneshots or smth, don't hesitate to drop an ask in my tumblr (tardisdementor)!**

 **References:**

 **1.** Reference to the Thornbush that was engulfed in flames when God was communicating with Moses. (bible)

 **2.** Idk if you realised but the third, rude angel was Balthasar.

 **3.** Lucifer's trip to Hell is inspired by Dante's Inferno. Give it a read - it's really, really interesting (at least look it up on wikipedia)

 **4.** So far, I'm hating how they are representing Lucifer in season 12 of supernatural. SPOILERS: I really, really hate the fact that Lucifer told Crowley that he wants to rule Hell... whaaat? Lucifer _hates_ demons! Besides, they've turned this incredibly complex character into a little one-dimensional bad-guy and I hate it. Also, I want Mark Pellegrino back.

 **5.** So I guess you don't really need to know star wars to know that Luke Skywalker is from Star Wars. But the person Gabriel is talking about, is Luke, the prophet.

 **Anonymous reviews:**

 **Qwerty:** I hope you're still with me! But thank you for your comment. Your reviews never fail to put a large smile on my face!

 **Jaden Xiang:** urgh, I can't stand Hermione and Ron either... Anyhow, thank you for your review!

 **AnotherGuest:** hahaha yea, I like cliffhangers

 **Mim:** Hiii! omg your reviews always make me laugh and giggle so much! Thank you for that! As for Death - urgh, he's literally one of the hardest characters to write.. Glad you liked my interpretation of him! Idk, about Hermione though - if she had been religious she would have said something in the books... besides, knowing Hermione, she probably just read the bible five or six times.. XD Well, considering that there is only one/two chapters left, I'd say that we will not be seeing the wizarding world again... sorry! Ahh! You took the words right outta my mouth! Chuckkkkk! And omg, I hate you - I am now so obsessed by that song - way down we go. This chapter was written with that song playing in the background. on a loop. for over six hours. yeah. I'm obsessed with it now. SOOO omggg thank you so much for your incredibly flattering review(s)!


	13. Finale: Endgame PART 1

**Well shit, I've been gone from this story for almost two years now. One year and ten months. Damn. I always meant to update, somehow never did. I shamefully admit that this chapter has been in my docs for almost that entire period of time. Well, the first half was written. The second half was written just this morning. I wonder how many of you will receive the update email and will actually read it.**

 **It's interesting that when I began writing this story, it was the summer before 12th grade (before my senior year, for the yanks in the audience, year 13 for the Brits). Since then I have graduated school and successfully completed my first year of university, studying architecture. I haven't seen supernatural since season 11 premiered, so I have no idea what has been added to the lore of the show. it's been almost two and a half years since I have had any contact with the supernatural world, and almost half a year after I deleted my tumblr and lost contact with the fandom, so forgive me if I got anything wrong.**

 **This story is nigh on finished. All that remains is this chapter, another one, and then possibly an epilogue. I have a few more weeks of holidays, so I will probably, finally finish this story (after two years!).**

 **RECAP FOR THOSE WHO DON'T WANT TO REREAD: Harry Potter turns out to be Lucifer, cant remember at first, pranks people with Gabriel. They realise who he is, he meets the Winchesters and Cas, heals Bobby, gets his grace back, regains his memories. His grace manifested itself as Harry's soul and body. Enlists hermione to fashion him a new body that can hold the grace of an Angel. Finds a new solution with Gabriel to solve the whole apocalypse problem by closing the gates of Heaven with all the angels inside so that they resolve their beef there. Chuck is enlisted to read the Angel tablet (which tells them how to shut the gates).**

* * *

"I'm not sure I'm Sam and Dean's favourite guy right now," Chuck said weakly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he walked down the stairs of his house, shouldering a bag full of his personal items and a few changes of clothes. Little did his two sons know that he was not only referring to his person as Chuck, but also his proper, and real identity as God. He heard Dean at night, sometimes praying to him, or cursing him. And Sam… oh, Sam still had faith in him, more so than most people that prayed to him.

Lucifer, caged in Harry Potter's body, was leaning against the door-frame, arms crossed. Chuck's heart soared, just seeing his son there, free of the mark and free of that all-consuming hate that had been ever-present in the time leading up to his fall from Grace. His second eldest looked unimpressed with his surroundings: he stared at everything as it were just a little below him. Currently, his sharp, emerald gaze had switched onto him, and were he a human, Chuck was sure he would have flinched back in fear.

His gaze was cold - unforgiving. And yet, Chuck noted that a glint of warmth was still somehow emanating from within. Evidently, Lucifer's time as a human had served him well: it had taught him some discipline and human morale.

As for Gabriel: the younger angel was bouncing on his feet, evidently impatient. Used to using his grace and pagan magic to get everywhere and complete all tasks, Gabriel was unused to patience. And even so, Chuck couldn't help but smile at his precious son. The youngest archangel. Lucifer was perhaps the Morning Star - the brightest of all angels - but Gabriel's own Grace shone with optimism and beauty, even if he insisted on presenting himself as immoral and cynical.

"Finally! Glaciers move quicker than you do." Gabriel cut through Chuck's day-dream, effectively stopping his mental tirade about his sons, who were standing before him, demanding his help to decipher a tablet which he had once long ago directed Metatron to etch into. Chuck's thoughts stopped in their tracks. _No_ , they weren't demanding _His_ help - they wanted Chuck, the _Prophet's_ help.

"At least I'm coming," Chuck replied sharply, falling back into his 'unwilling-Prophet' persona. A deep chuckle reverberated throughout the foyer and all eyes turned to Lucifer who had pushed himself away from the open doorway and was now casually staring at him with his hands tucked in his pockets.

"And you would have done _what_ exactly, had we decided to hunt you down?" The Morning Star asked, a challenging fire blazing in his eyes. _He still regards humans as pitiful_ , Chuck realised. Sighing inwardly, Chuck noted that Lucifer had grown enough to actually, physically support the Humans - the Winchesters - in their fight to stop the Apocalypse and maybe he even admired Humans, but he didn't seem to deem it right to see himself as equal to them.

"An Archangel's protecting me, right?" He shot back. He knew full well that the Archangel in charge for the Prophet Chuck was in fact, Raphael, but it seemed that in His absence, Heaven's rigid rules had slackened somewhat. Raphael had never, as per protocol, properly introduced himself or fulfilled the guardian angel duties that he should have.

"Raphael?" Lucifer asked with a snort. "He's always been the jealous sandwich brother-"

"-Luce," Gabriel interrupted with a small, furtive glance at the ceiling. "You never know. The asshat might be listening in."

"He despises Humans. He would deem it below himself to even touch down on Earth," Lucifer replied, rolling his eyes. His brilliant wings fluttered a little in an agitated manner and Chuck sighed inwardly. Lucifer's mild distaste towards his brother had been present even back in Heaven, all those eons ago.

"Raphael hates humans?" Chuck cut in, eyebrows rising with honest curiosity, but even so, something broke inside of him. When he had first created this new beautiful species, Lucifer had been mildly interested in them. Gabriel had spent a lot of time teaching them and even pranking them now and again. Michael had been largely disinterested, but Raphael… he had loved them with all his heart. Out of all of the Archangels he had been the only one who had legitimately loved them, perhaps only because Chuck had commanded it. What had happened along the way - had he left too early? Had he ripped his tutelage away too harshly?

"Yes he does. All the more reason to leave this place quickly and get you to a secure location," Gabriel bit back sharply. Lucifer let out a full-blown laugh as he pulled Gabriel's into a headlock and gave his hair a nice rub.

"Look at you, little Gabe, being all responsible!"

Chuck didn't even notice that a small, perhaps even proud, smile had crawled onto his lips until he caught sight of his face in the foyer mirror. Almost instantly his amiable appearance dropped and he reverted back to his miserable persona as that of the Prophet Chuck. The two Angels were still wrestling with each other when he swept past them onto the lawn outside. But then just as he was about stagger over to his small car, assuming that that was the way they were going to travel, a small, but oddly powerful hand dropped on his shoulder.

"Not this way, Prophet," Chuck heard Lucifer whisper harshly into his ear.

His question died in his throat when he noticed that three Angels had appeared on the lawn. Puriel, Sariel and Ahriman. Their wings shone brilliantly behind them, spread out threateningly. Having never seen them since the time he had spawned them from nothingness, Chuck felt no little measure of guilt boil up in his gut at the thought of his beautiful and wonderful children growing up like soldiers; without feeling, without morals.

That moment that Chuck took to examine them, cost his small party time: the Angels had already started advancing, swords in hand.

"Goddamnit!" Gabriel shouted, behind him and Lucifer. "Close the door!" Scrambling back up the stairs to the house, Chuck bolted in - and straight into Gabriel's arms. He heard a door slam shut behind him but had barely any time to react, because seconds later Lucifer had also taken hold of his waist and they were off in a flurry of wings, pagan magic and wizarding magic.

They plopped down, rather harshly, in the middle of a large living room, but that was so completely filled with books and tomes and old antiquities that it made it look rather small. Almost instantly Chuck heard a loud click and turned in time to see a gruff-looking man wearing a baseball cap and some sort of vest…. and he was pointing a large shotgun straight at his face.

"Name?" he said harshly, voice just as gruff, if not gruffer, than his appearance implied.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Chuck heard the familiar voice of Sam Winchester and minutely turned his head in time to see the young man scrambling down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The hunter instantly and swiftly jogged over to the older man and raised his arms defensively.

"He's fine - that's Chuck. The Prophet Chuck? We talked about him, remember?. He's not a threat, Bobby," Sam said calmly. _Boy, if only he knew,_ Chuck thought. Bobby's eyes never left Chuck's form, but the gun was lowered.

"How d'you get here, _Chuck_?" Bobby said, voice dripping with suspicion.

"Huh?" Chuck blinked at him and then glanced behind him, both Angels were gone. Where where they?

"I watched you appear out of thin air, kid," Bobby continued. "As far as I know, humans don't just do that."

"I was-" he started, but was swiftly interrupted by Sam, who in one swift movement, placed a hand on Bobby's gun, forcing him to lower it, and leaned forwards to grab the bag that had plopped down at Chuck's feet.

"What's this?" He pulled out one of the large stone tablets and Chuck almost rolled his eyes when he once again, caught sight of Metatron's atrocious handwriting.

"Look, man. I have no idea. These two dudes - they introduced themselves as Gabriel and Lucifer appeared at my house and jerked me over here…" Chuck glanced around, "Wherever _here_ is."

"You said you spoke to _Lucifer_?" Sam said, licking his lips anxiously. "Was he… _alright_?"

"What do you mean alright? Was he annoying and sarcastic?" He paused feigning ignorance. "Why - _shouldn't_ he be alright?" Another pause. "Is he actually _the_ Lucifer?" Sam considered him for a moment before turning to Bobby. "Where is he anyway? He and Gabriel brought me here…"

"Do the test, Bobby."

"Bossin' me around in my own home? That's low, Sammy. Low," said the grizzled Hunter, rolling his eyes.

"Test?" Chuck questioned hesitantly, tone a notch higher than usual. Soundlessly, Bobby reached into a small cupboard by the door and produced a number of tools, all looking sharp and dangerous. One by one, each knife or material was pressed against his skin and when nothing produced a reaction (except bleeding), Bobby had to grudgingly drop his firearm. He was still squinting though, when Chuck turned to stare at him.

"I've got my eye on you, kid." Which Chuck took for an honest threat.

It was almost a whole day later when two archangels stumbled through the door. One snorting and giggling as he walked, the other with his head held high, viewing everything as if it were below him. Almost instantly, Dean rushed into the room, hearing the commotion, and raised his trustworthy Colt. Two bangs later, Lucifer's corpse lay on the front porch.

"What the hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted, having just rushed into the room at the sound of gunshots. Seeing the corpse now laying in the doorway, his mouth propped open. " _What the hell_?" He reiterated, sounding incredulous.

"'S what he deserved," Dean said gruffly, squaring his shoulders in a show of machismo.

"Dude you can't just go around shooting people!"

"Not a person," croaked a familiar, English accented voice from the front porch. Gabriel, who had been chewing on some sweet or other, dispassionately turned to Lucifer who had raised his arm to wave it a little. When no one replied to his statement, Lucifer chose to elaborate. "I'm an Archangel, remember?"

As he stood up, two bullets simply… fell away from his chest. Some splatters of blood covered the front of his white dress shirt. Two holes revealed healed over skin and tissue. He smirked at the wide-eyed stares. "Not so easy to kill an Archangel," Lucifer remarked nonchalantly, yet his wings were bristling.

"That was a rude," Gabriel remarked, helping his brother up. It took Chuck a moment to realise that they were _playing_ with the Winchesters.

"What the _hell_?" Dean charged forwards, aiming his gun again.

Sam held him back. "Don't waste the bullets, man."

Lucifer gave a somewhat cold laugh. " _Hell_ , indeed," he said wrinkling his nose. "Not the most pleasant place."

"Is— Is he ok, you know…" Dean trailed off, as he addressed Gabriel. The younger Archangel didn't answer, he instead, looked over at his elder brother.

"You ruined my shirt," Lucifer actually _pouted_ as he looked down at the blood splatters. He poked two fingers through the holes, looking somewhat dejected.

"He doesn't _seem_ crazy," Gabriel said slowly. Chuck realised that his youngest Archangel had been going on a limb here, he himself didn't seem to know the state of Lucifer's mind.

"Where were you? You guys just dumped me here yesterday — Bobby could've shot me!" Chuck exclaimed, trying to sound as scandalised as possible.

"We had to pick up some ingredients." Gabriel showed them all a plastic bag filled with things that Chuck wasn't sure that _he_ could put a name to. It seemed that evolution had developed certain wildlife and flora and fauna into something different. He'd been absent for so long that he hadn't even bothered to keep up with the progress. A feeling of guilt pooled in his gut.

"Ingredients for what?" Bobby said somewhat gruffly. Although Chuck was now beginning to gather that this was his default disposition to life in general.

"We have a new plan," Lucifer spoke up so soberly and neutrally, that Chuck felt that he was almost looking at a completely different son. He picked up the two bullets from the ground, and examined them with interest.

"What was wrong with the last one?" Dean actually looked insulted. Lucifer passed the bullets to Gabriel and strolled over to Chuck, who was still hogging the three tablets. He held out his hand and Chuck soundlessly passed them to him. He could feel his own… scent of power emanating from the tablets. Lucifer had previously used the power instilled in them to start the rebellion in Heaven. They were certainly objects that held unmatched power.

"Many things, the probability of us succeeding predicated on whether I would be powerful enough to wrestle Michael into the cage that I broke out of. You didn't consider that that cage couldn't hold me and it certainly wont hold Michael for long." Lucifer gazed at the tablets for a moment, lost in his memories, before seemingly shaking himself and returning to the present. "These are the Tablets. One for Hell, one for the Leviathans, and one for Heaven. They hold within them unmatched power."

"We know enough of Metatron's—" Gabriel continued.

"What the Transformer?" Sam was frowning with confusion.

"What? No. Metatron, our brother. The scribe of God. He wrote these tablets while God instructed him. Well, we can understand his script… more or less. Enough to know what ingredients we need. That's where Chuck comes in."

"Me?" Chuck blinked at them when all eyes turned in his direction.

"You," Lucifer began. "As a prophet, are the only one who can fully decipher what the hell _Dad_ meant with these ramblings."

"And what will you do with that… uh… knowledge," Sam asked hesitantly. He licked his lips uncertainly.

"We intend on closing the gates of Heaven."

" _What_?" The word had slipped past Chuck's lips before he could stop it. They wanted to _what_? Lucifer frowned when he turned to look at Chuck; there was something suspicious in his gaze as he regarded the 'prophet'.

"Well, first we will throw the angels in, hence the spell, then one of you humans has to undertake the trials and we can shut the gates until we resolve our issues. We must solve the issues and illnesses plaguing Heaven before…"

"…before they spill out on Earth, more than they have already. Our presence here, in recent years, has only had ill effects on humanity," Gabriel finished quietly. He was no longer his usual boisterous self.

"Michael and I have to solve our issues in safety where no harm to humans can come," Lucifer was still caressing the tablets as he spoke, evidently subconsciously drawing comfort from the power that it emanated.

Chuck stared at his sons with amazement; he didn't even bother to hide his pride this time around. How they had grown, how they had matured!

"And the fight won't spill out to Earth?" Dean asked, finally lowering his Colt. The Winchesters and Bobby exchanged glances, evidently considering this option. Gabriel shook his head.

"But if this thing is so powerful (he nodded towards the tablets in the Archangel's hands), how do we know Lucifer'll use it for that purpose?" Sam winced when Lucifer's dangerous gaze fell on him.

"Haven't you heard?" The light-bringer gave a dramatic pause. "I'm reformed."

"Right," Sam sounded sceptical. Lucifer dropped the tablets, and a few cracks appeared on the surface. He advanced on Sam in a slightly dangerous fashion. Instantly, the Colt was aimed at his head once more.

"You should be thankful, _Sam_. If not for Harry, _you_ would be my vessel." This seemed to shut him up pretty well.

Chuck leaned forwards and picked up the three tablets, examining them with interest. He had never seen them, per se, he had only ever dictated to Metatron, whilst the latter had written. It was remarkable how terrible Metatron's handwriting was, that alone took him a few minutes for him to decipher. The next thing he realised was how remarkably Old Testament-y the text sounded, had he really spoken like that to Metatron? No wonder the Old Testament God was so feared.

"…Chuck? Hey Chuck?" Said man looked up only to realise that all eyes were on him. Evidently, he had slightly zoned out when recollecting his memories — their conversation had meanwhile progressed and there seemed a general consensus in the group to proceed with the new plan.

"Yeah, sorry, I zoned out," he murmured, glancing back down at the tablet. Lucifer was frowning again.

"Are you alright, man?" Sam found a bottle of water somewhere and passed it to him. Chuck smiled and set it aside.

"It's just all a bit overwhelming," he said by way of explanation.

"So can you read it?" Dean asked after a momentary pause.

"It's pretty gruesome," Chuck replied. He was shocked at himself. The Old Testament God was really quite a bit horrifying. He much more preferred this New version of himself.

"So you can read them!" Sam exclaimed with exultation. It seemed he was finally finding some of that optimistic hope of his. Chuck slowly nodded. Then proceeded to 'translate' the tablet for them.

"We have to find a Nephilim and cut out it's heart, steal a bow from a cupid, and steal the grace of an Angel — of the Angel completing the trials. Then the Angel must cast a spell with… a demon's blood, feather of an Archangel and a Deathly Hallow."

"Goddamn," Dean murmured quietly to himself. Lucifer and Gabriel exchanged an impressed glance.

"Who knew dad could be so gruesome," Gabriel remarked, making Chuck squirm a little.

"He _was_ quite… gruesome back in the day," Lucifer mused.

"Well yeah, he committed genocide, sent bears to maul forty-two kids, and there was that thing with Job — _he_ totally got the short straw."

"That's putting it mildly," Gabriel said, whistling. Lucifer actually looked grumpy.

"I tried _everything_ to tempt him to curse God," Lucifer said, shaking his head, lost in memory. "I did a lot of bad shit to him."

"And then when Job still didn't curse God, God granted him mercy, right? That's how the story goes? You guys made a bet over a man just for kicks?" Sam actually sounded incredulous. Gabriel and Lucifer exchanged an amused glance.

"Well God wanted to see how far a genuinely _good_ human could endure the hardships of life before he succumbed to Satan," Chuck explained. Then noticing everyone was staring at him, he elaborated: "Well, I guess that would've been God's reasoning."

"We could be the new Job," Dean said laughing as he pointed at Sam and him. "The demons, our mother, then dad, then hell, your addiction."

They sobered up after a few minutes of laughter. It was an oddly touching scene to watch as a bystander; Satan, Gabriel and three humans, laughing. It actually sounded like a bad joke in and on itself.

"So who wants to volunteer to be the sacrificial lamb?" Bobby asked, posing the question that no one had been willing to ask. Again, Gabriel and Lucifer looked at each other: it was obvious to them that whoever performed the trials and then gave up their grace would _Fall_ , and become human, something neither wanted to do.

"I will." The voice came from the library-area of the house. Leaning against a book-covered desk, was Castiel. He gazed at them all with that same intense stare he always wore. From his hand, dangled a familiar necklace, that Chuck was only too late to recognise. It was the very same necklace that Sam had given Dean all those years ago for Christmas; the samulet, as fans of Carver Edlund's books affectionally called it, and it was able to detect when God's presence was near. It was currently beaming with light.

Chuck swallowed and instantly commanded it to cease shining. Castiel's mouth propped open with confusion when the light disappeared and it became the same as it always was.

"Find God yet?" Dean asked, he seemed slightly on the offensive. Castiel did not answer him, and continued to stare at the amulet. Then frowning, stashed it into his coat pocket.

"No," he finally replied. Still as monosyllabic as ever, Chuck remarked to himself, smiling inwardly.

"I shall take on the trials," Castiel said after a long moment of silence that drew out as everyone stared at the newcomer.

"No, absolutely not — do you know the consequences?" Dean stalked up to him. "Did you hear what Chuck said?"

"I have been standing here for an appropriate time. Yes. I know." Castiel didn't sound sad, or happy, or even regretful. He just _was_. Emotionless and fulfilling his duty of sacrifice. His polar opposite stood near him: Lucifer, the most emotional of all the angels, the one who had sought free will and who had had enough of a flicker of emotion to want that from his father.

And it was remarkable to Chuck, that this young angel, even as dutiful as he was, had that same spark of free will. He had none of the power that Lucifer had, or the beauty, or the ambition, but he had enough emotion, even if bottled, to want to sacrifice himself for Sam and Dean.

"I shall fulfil the trials," Castiel said in such a final tone, that it sounded as though he were signing his own death sentence. Dean stepped back, head bowing as he did so. A sudden stillness of macabre melancholy descended upon the group and it seemed to suddenly dawn on them that they had finally reached the Endgame.

* * *

 **Hi! Thanks for reading! I don't know if some of the guest reviewers will even be reading this story, especially after the two year hiatus, but nevertheless, I decided to reply to them (reviewers logged on, get private PMs, sorry anonymous reviewers!):**

 **Qwerty (9. NOV, 2016):** thank you so much! I feel the same about Gabriel!

 **Anotherguest (17 Nov. 2016):** Yes the irony of Lucifer in a church is magnificent.

 **R ( . 2017):** I know, I was like 17, i didn't know what a plot was.

 **guest (16. Jan 2017):** hahaha there is more now!

 **Devola(6. May, 2017): You wrote:** _"It's hilarious that you abandoned this so close to the end."_ Although you wrote that comment back in 2017, it has been on my mind several times a months since then. I have waned to prove you wrong, since then. So all the readers have you to thank.

 **Mercy (29 may, 2017):** Thank you! I have now!

 **Me (6. June, 2017):** Idk man, i have no idea what my 17 year old self was writing at the time. i'Ve lost all the notes.

 **S (5. September, 2017):** I didn't abandon it!


	14. Finale: Endgame PART 2

**If you're squeamish, then I warn you: the beginning of this chapter may be a tiny bit graphic.**

 **Long chapter, but this one IS the last, so... (just an epilogue left tbh)**

 **I'm stunned at how many people have continued reading this story, even after the two year hiatus... So THANK YOU, for coming back to this! Very honoured!**

* * *

Castiel came back with bloody hands; he was accompanied with a grimacing Gabriel who kept wrinkling his nose at the gruesome and frankly, unappealing sight. In Castiel's hands lay the heart of a nephilim. It was oozing blood and still had a few sinews of muscle attached to it.

"Gross, man," Sam sat in the library area of Bobby's house. he was reading a tome on cupids, seeing as the next challenge was to steal one's bow. He was alone in the house; Bobby had gone out to get some fresh food, Dean was tinkering with his already perfectly restored impala, Gabriel and Lucifer were God knew where, and Chuck was browsing through the eclectic collection of books.

Castiel didn't seem to realise the gravity of what he had done. From his trench he pulled out an ancient-looking canvas bag which had various runes stitched on to its rim and gently placed the heart there. He looked terrible; there were bags under his eyes, his hair was unbrushed and his head had the characteristics of a bobblehead: it moved on it's own accord. Much like a drunk person's.

"Hey Cas, are you alright?" Sam stood up and grabbed the Angel by the shoulders. Castiel's head slumped. It struck the hunter that he had never seen him so weak. Were the trials affecting him so?

"The trials… I am Falling already," he whispered. Sam heard Chuck approach, trying to look around his tall frame.

"Oh… his wings," Chuck stated blandly. When Sam glanced at him, he saw that the man looked sorrowful for some reason.

"You can see his wings?" Sam blinked at the prophet.

"Uh yeah… prophet privileges? They're not as thick and battle-ready as they used to be."

"Where is Dean?" Castiel said quietly, passing the canvas back to Sam.

"Why don't you wash up first, buddy?" Sam gestured at the bloody hands. Castiel frowned at him, then looked down at his hands, turning them around several times as though they weren't truly his. He was squinting as he did so.

"Oh, yes." He disappeared.

"Well that was weird," Sam murmured to Chuck before passing him the bag with the nephilm heart. The prophet gingerly took it and placed it one of the extra chairs.

"Everything about this situation is weird."

A flutter of wings and—

Gabriel had appeared, he was holding an ancient bow in one hand, his pet dog, K-9 in the other. He was sporting a grin, but it quickly disappeared when his gaze alighted on the few drops of blood splattered all over the hardwood floor. His gaze followed the splatters until it stopped over the bag.

"Right, so the first trial is done."

"Yeah — where the hell have _you_ been?" Sam looked up from his book, only now noticing the bow in the arch-angel's hand. "You got the bow? How?" He shut his book.

"Well," Gabriel said, sauntering over to the table. "While you were wasting your time _reading_ , I tracked down my brother who owed me a favour. I got him to give me his bow," Gabriel was smirking.

Sam didn't really want to ask what he had had to do to get it, but he thanked the angel earnestly. They could really use all the help they could right now.

"But isn't his power gone without his bow?" Chuck spoke up, gazing innocently at both angel and human. Gabriel plopped down on one of the chairs, his dog curled up on his lap and promptly fell asleep.

"Well, technically yeah. He's still an angel, but he can't make people fall in love anymore. But he got something good in return," he was still smirking.

"So his purpose was taken away from him?" Chuck was actually frowning. Gabriel snorted.

"So? S'not like _Dad_ has cared for the last two or three millennia whether we fulfil our duties or not. He kinda disappeared."

Sam closed another book and turned all of his attention to the angel. He wore a sympathetic look; his eyebrows were drawn together in a pitying expression. "So no one's home in celestial town?"

Gabriel sighed. "I haven't been home in a few years, but I left because of the tension that was created by _Him_ leaving. He thought everything would go on as usual after he left, but it didn't. Michael and Raphael began arguing about who should lead heaven. Angels became militarised and… well, everything went tits up."

"Do you think you would have managed to grow up with… God treating you like a helicopter parent?" Chuck was leaning forwards, Gabriel currently his sole interest. The arch-angel mused over that.

"It would have taken more time, sure, but the Apocalypse wouldn't have begun in the fist place. Michael wouldn't be on a murdering spree. Some guidance would have been good, not that _He_ is any good at that. I mean, the messages he told me to deliver to Earth during biblical times — man, even I didn't understand what the hell He meant by them." Another deep sigh.

"God sounds like a dick," Sam said, finally leaning back into his chair and considering Gabriel as though he had never really seen this particular side to the Angel. He glanced at Chuck and was just in time to see a somewhat offended expression cross his face.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Chuck said defensively when two inquisitive gazes turned on him.

"Yanno, you seem oddly defensive about him," Gabriel said, peering at him with curiosity. "You have been from the very beginning. I wonder why that is."

"I guess I can relate a little?" Chuck was speaking in a very small voice. Gabriel's ire turned a slight bit more aggressive.

"That's true," Sam interjected before Gabriel could rile himself up. "And Dean's amulet was shining when Castiel swooped in here." It was a keen observation, that Gabriel didn't seem to have thought of. His eyes widened.

Chuck laughed nervously. "You can't think that _I'm_ God?!"

That moment, the door was almost thrown off of it's hinges with the amount of force that Dean used to slam it open. "Guys! Help! Cas is—"

They rushed to the open door: Dean was attempting to drag Castiel into the house. The Angel's hands were clean now, but his eyes had fluttered shut, and a small trail of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth to his ear, where it disappeared into his hair.

"What happened?!"

With Sam's help, they managed to get him on the couch. He looked oddly fragile as his hand slowly slipped off of his stomach and dangled down to the floor, fingers just slightly brushing the floor.

"The trials are starting to affect him," Gabriel said grimly. He was still holding Cupid's bow and before anyone could stop him, he pushed it into the dangling hand. Castiel's limp fingers twitched a little as he weakly took hold of it. A silver of light emanated from within the bow: Castiel had completed the second trial. Tough not technically having stolen it himself, it had certainly been accepted as a completed trial.

"He's almost dead, his grace is dwindling," Chuck said when Dean had stopped fretting over the Angel and had ascertained to himself that he was breathing, if somewhat irregularly.

"He has to take out his own grace, though, right? We can just steal it from him?" Sam asked. Dean rounded on him.

"Dude! We can't just take his Angel-mojo from him?! This is Cas we're talking about!"

"Your boytoy will be alright." All heads turned to look at the familiar voice: Lucifer was kneeling next to Castiel. His hand was on the latter's forehead and as they watched, Castiel's laboured breathing turned normal and some colour returned to his countenance. However, he remained asleep.

"I swear, Lucifer if you—" Dean began, ignoring the nickname as he advanced menacingly.

"I just healed him," Lucifer interrupted with a frown. Indeed, were Dean an Angel he would have seen that Castiel's wings had regained some of their plumage and his grace wasn't as dull as it had been mere minutes ago. "You forget, _human_ , that he is my little brother and I do not wish him Death anymore than I do myself."

"Ok, so what's the next step?" Sam picked up the tablet and passed it to Chuck. The prophet hesitantly passed a finger over the runes, examining them as though he were a blind man.

"Well you know that he has to rip out his grace, and then he should cast the spell… Uh, this part has to be cast in _Enochian_."

"Enochian?" Dean pursed his lips as he cleaned his greasy and bloody hands on the old shirt that was tied around his waist. He was covered in grime from his car.

"Language of the Angels," Sam elaborated.

"I'll cast it." Gabriel looked over at Lucifer, who was still propped up on one knee as he examined Castiel's state. "What? The Angels don't need _more_ reasons to hate on Luci," Gabriel continued, defending his choice.

"So what's the spell?" Sam's exasperated gaze turned back to the prophet.

"Uh, it's… wait, let me decipher this… _rood ol madriaax desalt ol ip noasmi ladnah od io-iad erom._ " It was evident that these were words of power, because the next moment, a gust of wind blew through the ground floor of the house, throwing papers into the air and toppling delicate, light objects from their dusty, old places.

"Good riddance, I say," Bobby muttered, a bag with the simplest groceries in hand as he stepped through the front door. A rifle was resting against his forearm and dangling to the ground. It made for a formidable sight: a man shopping for his groceries with a rifle clutched in another hand.

The magical power that had blown through the house seemed to act as a sort of catalyst for Castiel's awakening. His body jerked into an upright position as he gasped for breath, as though he had been drowning.

"It's the tablet," Lucifer offered once Dean had made sure that Castiel was somewhat semi-conscious.

"The tablet?"

"It holds Dad's power," Gabriel continued for Lucifer. "Luci drew his power from it when he staged his rebellion in the first place. It's magic is obviously having an effect on Cas — he's the one doing the trials after all."

"Alright man? You scared us," Dean murmured, as he threw a blanket over Cas' shoulders.

"And he wonders why everyone calls Cas his boytoy," Gabriel stage-whispered to Lucifer who smirked a little.

"I am fine," Castiel replied in a gruff voice. He looked anything but; the deep bags under his eyes, the smudges of dirt and blood, the unkempt appearance of his hair and clothing…

"Are you up for the next task?" Sam asked somewhat insensibly. When Dean turned to accusingly stare at him, his younger brother made a 'what?' gesture.

"The next task will _kill_ him!" Dean said in a dangerously low tone.

"It won't kill him," Chuck spoke up, for the first time in a while. He looked perturbed by the scenes playing out before him and his gaze was still focused on Castiel's weak form. "He'll just become human. That's a big deal for angels. They're sacrificing what makes them… _them_."

Lucifer's brow was furrowed again. "How do _you,_ a prophet, know this, eh? Prophets are like Gallifreyans, they live to observe and document. No angel has become human in your lifetime, so how could you possibly know?"

"What does it matter _how_ he knows?" Dean directed his uncontrolled anger at Lucifer, although truly the Devil was not at fault here. "At _least_ he knows…"

Sam was about to protest this, when Dean's gaze became slightly more probing and suspicious. Out of Castiel's trench pocket, he withdrew his amulet, the one rumoured be able to locate God. It was as dull and unpolished as ever. Dean quickly hung it around his neck and briefly caressed it with his thumb. "But why did this light up when Cas first appeared here? I saw you making a gesture… and then it just turned off."

"You're accusing me of being God? Dean do you know how crazy that sounds?" Chuck shoved the tablet into Sam's arms and stormed out of the house. Yelling something over his shoulder that no one really understood.

"I'll send Anael after him," Lucifer murmured, but didn't budge from his position, so the assumption was that he was somehow using a direct-line version of Angel Radio.

"I am ready," Castiel said slowly, standing up on wobbly legs; he swayed a little, but his determination was clear.

.

it was one of those gruesome rituals that Sam usually expected witches to be doing, to summon demons and the like, not hunters and angels. In a wooden basin (carved with enochian sigils that Gabriel, as the messenger, knew best) they had collected all the objects that the trails required from them. A nephilim's heart lay there, amongst a broken up cupid's bow, and a wisp of Angel grace that swirled in the bowl's remains as though it were an underwater snake.

Gabriel had procured a little vial of demon blood; Lucifer lay down Death's ring — the Deathly Hallow required for this ritual to work — and finally, all that remained, was the archangel's feather.

They; Sam, Bobby, Gabriel and Lucifer, had unanimously decided to go out into the field beyond Bobby's house, unsure of what effects and consequences the spell would have on its surroundings. Dean had remained in the house, tending to a very human Castiel. Chuck hadn't been found, even Anael, a most skilled tracker, hadn't been able to get him.

"You should close your eyes… humans aren't really supposed to see divinity," Gabriel suggested. The moment Sam's eyes fluttered shut, a blazing heat of whiteness assaulted him, almost burning through his eyelids. He fought against the temptation of his curiosity: it, after all, killed the cat.

This brightness was gone the next second and when he deemed it safe to open his eyes, he saw Lucifer twirling a brilliantly white feather between his fingers. The Devil had white feathers?

"It's safe to look — you've been exposed to enough divinity as hunters, to be able to handle one feather." Lucifer spoke very succinctly and calmly, something that seemed not quite… _him_. Sam quickly realised that this was probably his way of dealing with nerves; after all, they _were_ about to summon all the Angels to heaven and then shut the doors behind them — and Lucifer would be entering his… home… for the first time since his Fall.

"So, uh, the spell?" Sam prompted. Lucifer tossed the feather into the breeze, which might not have been a breeze after all, because the feather was carried directly into the bowl, where, without someone lighting a match, it caught fire. The ashes dropped to the bottom of the bowl and a little cloud of white smoke curled into the air.

"The pope has been chosen!" Gabriel said, elbowing his brother and waggling his eyebrows as he did so. Lucifer actually looked amused at his antics, but rolled his eyes anyway. It occurred to Sam suddenly that the two Archangels behaved much like any siblings did — like him and Dean.

"So are we supposed to be the conclave?" Bobby was staring at the quickly dissipating white smoke.

"Lucifer a cardinal?" Gabriel snorted.

"I think I'm a little over the eighty year-old age limit," Lucifer actually laughed.

"We're stalling again," Sam said quietly. That shut everyone up.

"Seeing as you two don't talk Angel Speak, I'll do the honours," Gabriel finally said. "Brother, it's time. Go up there, find Michael."

It struck Sam that this was the last time the two brothers would see each other until the crisis in Heaven was resolved. Gabriel, after casting the spell, would be cut off from his home, he would be stranded on Earth. Lucifer seemed to have an understanding of this, because he smiled somewhat sadly and drew his brother into a sort of half-hug.

Then just like that, Lucifer was gone.

"Gabriel, whatever happens, we know you'll be alone on Earth after you close the gates… I'm sure Bobby could use some help with manning the fort for the hunters. Without the Angels it'll be all-hands on deck once the demons start realising what's happened."

"Thanks Sam." Gabriel sounded earnest. He took a deep breath then he cleared his throat loudly and began reciting the spell that Chuck had spoken only the day before: the difference was, Gabriel seemed to actually know how to pronounce the… words? The way he enunciated each syllable was almost musical, it was certainly alien and otherworldly.

It was a cliche to say that nothing happened the first few moments after Gabriel's voice faded into silence, but any thought of conventional fiction thrillers was expelled from Sam's mind when the contents of the bowl pulsed with light for a few heart-beats and then burst into brilliant white flames, causing him and Bobby to physically flinch and lurch backwards.

"That was anticlimactic," Gabriel murmured, peering into the centre of the flaming bowl.

.

Lucifer approached Heaven, apprehension getting stronger the closer he got. Heaven, as opposed to how humans liked to portray it, was on another plane and not in the sky. He had decided to savour this trip; the last time he had been on this road, he had been falling from Heaven, all the way to Hell. His body had been on fire, his wings demonised. But as he drew closer to Heaven, he felt his Grace healing and his wings strengthening.

He was beginning to pass angels; he was getting closer to the home of these celestial bodies. They stopped and gasped as he passed them, eyes widening and wings fluttering excitedly. He hadn't seen many of these angels, most of whom had been created after he'd Fallen. Perhaps it was his sheer size or awesome power, but as he got nearer and nearer, more and more angels gathered around him in crowds.

They pointed and gasped, eyes wide with awe and many with fear. To them, he was a myth, a time long gone and like for the humans, he seemed more of a long-lost memory than a realistic threat.

The gates of Heaven presented themselves differently to everyone: humans and angels alike. To Lucifer, they were the gates to Hogwarts — a small smile made its way onto his lips, he supposed that was his mind's nod towards his time as Harry Potter, which had taught him so, so much.

And standing in front of the gates was, as the New Testament stated, Saint Peter. Bearded and with a head full of curls, he looked more like a hipster surfer than the ancient Apostle that he was. In his hands, he held the keys to Heaven. This was more of a symbolic gesture than anything; the keys couldn't actually close the doors to heaven, only the spell that Gabriel was about to cast could do that, but humans generally didn't know that causing humans to confess the last of their sins to Saint Peter before they crossed over to the Kingdom of Heaven.

"The eternal sinner," St. Paul said, as Lucifer approached. He seemed unaffected by the Archangel's awesome power.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and as though to remind himself and everyone around him that he still really was the Devil, and that no, he was not part of them, he grabbed the keys from Paul's hands and tossed them over his shoulder — they fell to Earth. A dick move, but he _was_ the Devil.

Smirking, he said, "Go fetch, _sinner_."

St. Paul looked more than a little exasperated. "I was _pardoned_ by _Jesus_ ," he muttered under his breath, and disappeared, probably gone in search for his keys before a human got his hands on them. It was a dick-move to get rid of him like that, but had he stayed in Heaven, he would have been erased out of existence when the war between him and Michael broke out. The Angels' full and unbridled power would have completely annihilated him from existence.

Lucifer crossed the threshold and the Angels that had been on the outskirts of Heaven followed him in. The moment the last one had passed through the open doors, the gates slammed shut as Gabriel, down on Earth, completed the spell.

And there stood the magnificent sight before him: the celestial town. It couldn't be described in human terms as its psychological conceptualisation was far beyond what any human language could describe. Nevertheless, at the very centre of Heaven, was what humans interpreted as the Eternal Garden, but was actually more of a sort of tool-shed where his Father had spent his days experimenting with little side projects. One of them: Humanity.

It was here he found Joshua. One glance at Lucifer, the Angel's jaw dropped and he disappeared. Lucifer rolled his eyes and pictured the throne room as the Eternal Garden, the preferred human representation: it had always been his favourite version. He walked around, sniffing flowers here and there: some of them didn't even exist on Earth. Obviously they were little experiments that had not made the final cut.

"What are you doing here, Lucifer?" The Devil, who hadn't felt much like the Devil recently, turned to see Michael sitting a on a bench. He looked calm, but his back was straight and tense and he seemed ready to stand to attention.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You're banned from entering Heaven, little brother."

"If I were banned, would I have been able to pass through the open doors?"

A small frown made its way onto Michael's face as he considered the thought. "If you're saying that our Father—"

"Our Father has _everything_ to do with this. He's been manipulating us from the very start. It has always come down to this moment." Lucifer passed some shrubbery, toed his feet into the little pond and then proceeded to cross it by literally walking on water. He spread out his arms and smirked at Michael: the biblical motif was clear. Lucifer stepped onto the bank and found himself now positioned right across Michael who had gotten up from his bench.

"Our _Father_ has been gone for some time."

"'O ye of little faith, why did you doubt?'" Lucifer asked, quoting Jesus.

"In His absence, I was tasked with fulfilling His plan. I grow tired of your resistance, Lucifer."

"His plan? You actually _want_ Heaven on Earth? Revelation?" Lucifer stared at him incredulously, feeling as though he and Michael were having two parallel conversations. "Michael, I… I have done so, so much to redeem myself. I have become a human, multiple times; I… tried to help the Winchesters stop the Apocalypse, to save Earth, the only perfect creation that _Father_ ever made. And you want to _destroy_ that because some human, in their second century decided to write an interpretation of His plan in the form of the Book of Revelation?"

"Your duty is to die."

Lucifer laughed. "You're so deluded," he shouted up 'to the heavens', so to speak. "Have you ever considered that our Father _created_ us? He created us and He wanted to be exactly as we were. I alone from all the Angels was given a speck of emotion… I alone have the capacity to feel hate, love, jealousy, _desire_. All this brought me to free will. It allowed me to rebel and I Fell. Dad learnt from me and created Humanity in _my_ image, not his. He specifically allowed me to corrupt Adam and Eve to be able to have emotions — I alone, am what makes Humanity human. My duty only ever was to be who I am and Dear God, isn't that the smoothest manipulation you have ever seen?!"

"Your attachment to the mortals is childish, brother. They are weak, and so is their Earth. Do you not understand, that by your death, we can bring… this delight," Michael gestured around him to the atmosphere of Heaven. "To the Humans you profess to love so much."

Lucifer scoffed and took one step closer to Michael, threateningly staring him down. "Oh Michael, but how can humans ever value what is up here if they don't have the frame of reference that is Earth or for that matter, Hell?"

A long pause of silence succeeded this statement. The only sounds around them were of the occasional birdsong. Michael cocked his head to the side whilst Lucifer gazed at the sun; it was not quite on this plane of existence, but also not quite on Earth's. The memory of creating it, and the stars, came to the forefront of his mind; Lightbringer, indeed.

"You have become wise, brother."

"Yes, thank you," Lucifer managed, almost disbelieving that it had taken such little convincing.

"…but you're wrong, Lucifer—"

And there it was. That condescending, little prick—

"I _swore_ never to come back here, after Father threw me out. But guess what, Michael, I decided to be the grown-up in this screwed-up family and threw the angels back in here, then shut the gates behind them — it's time we resolve our issues before all of that _shit_ spills out to Earth."

"You what?" Michael took a step closer to Lucifer, eyes flashing. They were almost nose-to-nose. "You _shut_ the gates of Heaven?!"

Lucifer pushed him by the shoulders — their first physical contact in this conversation. Michael hadn't expected it and he stumbled back, falling onto the bench he had been previously sitting on.

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?"

"You shut the gates of Heaven?!" He repeated, throwing himself to his feet. He threw a right hook at Lucifer who's neck twisted almost a full one-eightywhen that fist connected with his cheekbone. He felt something hot beginning to trickle down his face. When his fingers came away from the wound, he found blood.

"If that was going to be the only way we could bunk up here and actually _talk_ about our problems? Yes, I stalled the Apocalypse, and got the Angels all in one room."

"Do you have any idea what you have just done?" Michael threw another punch at him, this one Lucifer managed to block. His elder brother had always been the stronger of the two and Lucifer, had been more psychologically and emotionally gifted.

"You have left Earth defenceless — Demons are free to come and go, the walls between Hell, Purgatory and Earth are now out of balance… How do you—"

"What do you care about Earth? You were planning on bringing Heaven down there anyway!" Lucifer attempted to block a few more swings, stumbled, then fell. With the most force that he could muster, he swung his legs against Michael's and the latter tumbled to the ground.

"But maybe… _maybe_ … You aren't completely convinced yourself?!" Lucifer crawled up to his knees; Michael pulled himself into an upright position and spat out a few leaves of grass. He propped his body on his elbows as he gazed up at Lucifer.

"No, I am indeed not," Michael said quietly. His breathing was harsh, perhaps not from their small fight, but rather because of the admission of fault that he had just confessed.

"…You aren't?" Lucifer gave him a double-take as he stared at his brother with wide-eyes, genuinely surprised by his brother's actions for the first time in years.

There was a moments' hesitation. "I have begun to doubt."

"Doubt in the Plan?"

"No, in Father…" Michael's tone was odd, it wasn't as robotic as it usually was. "Our Father…" he faltered and it occurred to Lucifer as to how hard this probably was for him. God's most loyal son, betraying his father. "Our Father cast you to Hell and then—"

"—Don't you dare pin this all on me!" Lucifer roared so loudly that the leaves on the trees around them rustled.

"He disappeared several millennia after your imprisonment, leaving us without any instruction. Gabriel had left a long time ago, you were in Hell; there remained only two Archangels to rule all of Heaven and keep the balance between us and Hell." Michael's anger was steadily building up to something explosive. "I was not ready and Father abandoned us!"

"What, and your solution was to start the apocalypse and bring Heaven down on Earth?" Lucifer threw his hands up into the air and jumped to his feet and he began pacing back and forth. Then coming to a realisation, he spun back around to face Michael who was watching him carefully.

"Unless…" Lucifer began, pointing his finger at his brother. "You just did all that to get his attention! You _knew_ that the moment when you tried to kill me that God would swoop down to save his 'favourite son'. Well, where is he? 'Cause I don't see him!"

"Must you always see to believe, Lightbringer?"

The voice was all-encompassing, it was all of heaven at once; spoken through one single entity. In a single instant both Archangels just _knew,_ who was standing before them. He was possessing a man who Lucifer had come to know quite well over the last to or three days. It was Chuck that stood before them; but there was something about Him that wasn't even human any longer: a type of brilliant divinity about Him.

"Father…" The word slipped through Michael's limp lips as he scrambled to get to his feet. Straight-backed and stern-eyed, his mouth propped open as he stared at his Father. Lucifer similarly had no words: almost out of some sort of inbred instinct, he moved to bow his head in submission, but his own ideals kept him standing upright with pride. It made him actually realise that he was withstanding God's natural commanding power.

"My sons… together, a sight I had not foreseen," their Father spoke.

"You are Chuck?" Lucifer found himself saying, the first thought that came to mind.

"Chuck?" Michael echoed, still too shocked to formulate independent thought, not that he had ever been very capable of that.

"The prophet," Lucifer replied, without breaking eye-contact with his Father. Considering who the man was, it was unsurprising that His gaze was simultaneously locked on Michael's as well.

"My cover while on Earth," He said by way of explanation.

Lucifer came out of stupor with a violent snarl, "How. Dare. You. Mess with our lives like that? How dare you let all that shit happen?" Lucifer almost physically launched himself at his Father, but Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Lucifer now stood shoulder to shoulder with him. Michael grabbed his forearm.

"Peace, brother," Michael said quietly and for the first time in a few millions of years, Lucifer felt that they were on the same side. Michael as the patron saint of the warriors and of those who strived to preserve peace and safety had a natural calming aura. Lucifer felt the full force of this power as it washed over him — he breathed a sigh of relief.

When fighting against a common enemy, humans tended to unite and it seemed right now Lucifer and Michael were doing exactly that. It was shocking to Lucifer to be standing next to his brother, aligned to him, in the face of their Father. _The enemy of my enemy is my friend_ , indeed.

"Why are you here, Father?" Michael spoke for the both of them. Lucifer still had his back to his Father and was staring into his brother's face, judging his expressions.

"You almost destroyed Humanity," He said evenly. His voice wasn't accusatory; to Him, it all seemed to be nothing more than fact. "The Apocalypse has been averted, postponed, for the time being. I thank you for that, Lucifer."

Lucifer felt Michael's hold on his arm weaken and he gave his younger brother a small nod, to prompt him to say something.

"There wouldn't have been an Apocalypse to avert, _Father,_ if you hadn't disappeared," Lucifer spat out as he spun around again, although this time in a considerably calmer fashion.

"That's on the Winchesters," their Father excused himself with a wave of His hand.

" _You_ created them," Michael interjected, unusually 'perceptively' for him.

"I created them, yes, but they have the free-will to do as they so please, was this not what Lucifer himself so desired for himself and for humanity?"

"Where the hell were you?" Lucifer finally bit out. Michael's head tilted up interest, it had been previously bowed slightly in submission.

"On Earth, pretending to be Chuck and experiencing Humanity without… the worship. It really is very distracting. I have been observing your progress, Lucifer, and watching the Winchesters — what remarkable brothers they are. They quite remind me of you two," He said. There was a sad, melancholic smile playing on His lips which was the first bit of emotion that the brothers had seen on their Father's face in this entire conversation.

"And before that?" Michael licked his lips, uncertain of how to confront his Father and remain 'the good son' all the while.

"…I was sick of humanity. They kept asking and begging for help, never taking responsibility for their own actions—"

"Pot, Kettle," Lucifer murmured quietly to himself. Michael's face turned to a sudden snarl which Lucifer could not have expected.

" _You left us, Father_!" the firstborn Archangel roared so loudly that Lucifer was sure that all of Heaven heard his cry of anguish. "You left Raphael and me in charge of _all of this_. Without instruction! How were we to know that the Apocalypse was not to take place?! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!"

Silence fell around them again. God seemed to bow His head for a moment, seemingly slightly ashamed of Himself.

"I have failed you as a father — to both of you… and I am ashamed. Gabriel was so kind as to inform me of what exactly happened and… My dear sons, I deeply apologise." God buried His face in His hands. His shoulders hunched over his body as He shook slightly.

Lucifer's eyes closed and he felt a wave of peace and serenity wash over him, much like what one felt after having had a migraine: complete safety and absolution of pain. He replayed those words over and over again, savouring every little pause, every little tremor in His voice, every little syllable.

"Michael, you have grown much, but your arrogance has driven you to moral have much to learn still," their Father said, having gotten a grip on His emotions once more. "Son, gather the Angels: they have much to discuss with you."

That was a dismissal if Lucifer had ever heard one. Michael bowed his head in a respectful manner and was gone in a flutter of wings. Lucifer was left alone with his Father.

God approached him cautiously and the Archangel was reminded that the last time they had stood face-to-face, He had ripped off his wings and tossed him down to Hell.

"You think you can buy me with a few sweet-nothings?" Lucifer said harshly, but not really meaning it. He knew he was acting out, but he couldn't help himself. His Father was just so New Testament-y.

God placed a hand on his shoulder and when He met no resistance, He pulled Lucifer into a hesitant hug. It was a human action that oddly brought the Archangel much comfort. Eventually, he found himself releasing a hesitant breath and leaning into the hug a little. When they separated, there were tears of joy in his Father's eyes.

"I forgive you, son and I apologise for all that I have done."

Had Lucifer escaped the cage on his own account and had he not begged his Father for a second chance to live life as a human, he would not have had the life of Harry Potter. Things probably would have gone differently. But armed with those memories and of a life of love, he found himself caving to those pesky emotions of forgiveness. His face hesitantly relaxed and his lips broke out into a hesitant smile.

"I have one last request from you, Lucifer," God murmured, awkwardly placing His hands behind His back. He had never been good with emotion, even though He had been the one to create the concept in the first place. This was evidently new territory for Him too. "You were my experiment for Humanity; you were the first Angel that I created with any speck of emotion, this led you to the concept of free-will. I had not expected for you to develop so quickly and so philosophically and I threw you away like a blotched project and began anew. If… _this_ has taught us anything, it is that you are better for it. All the Angels in Heaven have the capability to feel emotion, but they have managed to push it to the very back of their consciousness and are not aware of it."

"Once Michael has gathered the Angels, you must teach them emotion. Order must be brought to the beings of Heaven: I do not expect you to lead them, you have always despised the hierarchies of your family, and yet that is my last request to you. Teach them, and once they have known emotion, Michael shall lead them in defence of humanity and from the evils that plague them."

"You _want_ me to teach them free-will?!" Lucifer stared at Him wide-eyed, disbelieving.

Lucifer licked his lips anxiously; this was what he himself had wanted from the very beginning. Free-will to all Angels so that they were capable of making their own calculated decisions. However, Angels could not live without their hierarchies as it was imbedded in their very being. What his Father was offering him was a sort of middle-ground wherein the Angels would be capable of fulfilling their duties, but with knowledge and with some semblance of an emotional intelligence.

"The task would not be unpleasant," Lucifer replied slowly.

"And when it is done and Heaven is at peace once more, the Gates shall open and the Angels will be free," God said, and Lucifer knew that it would be so. It sounded quite biblical to him.

Lucifer finally nodded and acquiesced, swallowing his pride for once.

"I am so proud of you." His Father placed a hand on his shoulder again and smiled. There was true warmth in His kind gaze that for the first time in eons, Lucifer found himself enveloped in a cocoon of comfort that he had he had not felt since before his Fall.

* * *

 **Well, that's it folks! Just the _EPILOGUE_ left :)**

 **A very challenging chapter to write, mainly because Lucifer is a very contradictory character to write and Michael to me is very confusing in the show. Also God. I mean, who finds God easy to write. Lucifer, from what he believes in, actually really reminds me of a classical libertarian.**

 **Guest: No, I don't write romance.**

 **Guest 2: thank you!**

 **Guest 3: Thank you! God, graduation was about a year ago, but I still remember it with a huge smile!**

 **Guest 4: Many thanks!**

 **Guest 5: Thanksss!**


	15. EPILOGUE

_Five years later, Heaven time ca. four centuries_

* * *

"Have you checked out the water-pressure on the showers, Sammy? Damn," Dean emerged into the main hub of the Men of Letters' bunker. Sam was sitting at one of the many tables in the library area, bemusedly jumping to book to book.

"I don't know how we should even _have_ water — that's the thing I'm trying to figure out!" He looked up in time to see Dean's attention get side-tracked by a large samurai sword displayed on a small podium. He was wearing a bathrobe; his hair was wet. Sam scoffed slightly.

"A dead man's robe?" He said with a short laugh.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not like he's using it."

"I wouldn't eat any food in the cupboards in the kitchen. It tasted foul," Castiel muttered, entering the hub from the opposite archway than the one Dean had just come out of.

"We have a kitchen? Sweet!" Dean exclaimed. Sam scrunched up his face at Cas' comment.

"What did you eat Castiel?" the younger Winchester asked with a long-suffering sigh. Five years on since Castiel had become a Human, and he was still trying to adapt to human life.

"There were some crackers…" he trailed off when even Dean gave him an 'are you stupid' stare.

"Well, I just found us a case," Dean said after a bit of a pause.

"Come on man, don't you think its time we have a little break?" Sam shut the book he had been inspecting that moment. Castiel meanwhile perused the books displayed in the luxurious bookcases.

"Don't you even want to hear what it's about?"

Sam sighed and waved his hand in a way that said 'sure, go on'. Dean pulled out his phone from his robe pocket and passed it to his younger brother.

"This guy in Oregon appeared five years ago, dressed in nothing but robes - the ancient kind - and raving mad. He was looking for Keys to the Gates of Heaven. He's been living off of giving guest lectures to church-goers, assisting a priest here or there. And get this, he claims he's Saint Paul — _the_ Saint Paul."

"What, the Apostle?" Sam asked with a small smile playing on his lips as he skimmed the article amusedly. Gabriel would get a kick out of this. Speaking of Gabriel. "We should probably call Gabriel, I suppose he would have known Saint Paul, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, it's not like he ever comes when I pray to him."

Sam grinned and jabbed a thumb at Castiel. "When he had Angel wings, he'd come the moment you called. It's my turn."

He turned away from Castiel and Dean and briefly placed the palms of his hands against each other. Closing his eyes, he directed a small prayer at Gabriel. There was an instantaneous _whoosh_ and a flutter of wings, and there stood an Archangel before him.

"Sammy, you called?" Gabriel asked cheerfully. He looked around Sam's tall frame and waved at Dean. "Hell-o Dean-o!"

"Gabriel!" Castiel exclaimed and launched himself at his brother excitedly. Gabriel gave him a warm hug, knowing how clingy to him the non-Angel had become since loosing his Grace.

"So, new case then?" Gabriel asked once he had managed to get Castiel off of him. Sam passed him the phone.

"Some guy claiming to be Saint Paul is looking for the keys to Heaven's gates," the younger Winchester explained. Gabriel laughed incredulously and scrolled down the page, looking for a photograph.

"Seriously? Never liked him… all that self-righteous energy… Toxic, you know." He kept scrolling until an image popped up: a young man with a long, untamed beard appeared. His eyes were striking… and there was something oddly very pure about them. "Yep, that's definitely Saint Paul. You say his keys are missing?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried glance. They hadn't expected this Saint Paul to be actually telling the truth.

"Heaven's dropping souls now too?" Dean threw his hands up in the air.

"No, we shut the gates, that's impossible," Gabriel murmured. An air of melancholy appeared around him.

"The article says he appeared five years ago? That's when we shut the gates," Castiel piped in, having listened to the conversation whilst examining the priceless artefacts of the Men of Letters.

"So the assumption is that he came down the moment the gates shut," Sam said, directing his speech towards Gabriel.

"Looks like it," the youngest Archangel murmured and passed Dean's phone back to him.

Astoria was a small seaside town with magnificent views that stretched on for miles. The town itself had an odd seaside New-Orleans-slash-small-northern-English village vibe. After dumping their things and leaving the Impala in the Atomic hotel, the group had divided into two, as they usually did, when working on a case that stank of angel mojo: Gabriel and Sam made up one group, Castiel and Dean the other.

Sam and Gabriel had spent the better part of three hours running from homeless shelter to homeless shelter, trying to find anyone who called themselves a Saint or Paul. Ideally, both. They even tried to get into a sanatorium, where when asked for a supervising FBI Agent who would confirm their identity as 'marshals', they simply called Bobby.

Dean and Castiel, on the other hand, had interviewed members of the congregation where he was said to have been last spotted. Eventually rumours led them, much like they led Sam and Gabriel, to a small Irish pub.

"Sam — find anything?" Dean asked with a small sigh as he slipped into the bar stools. Castiel instantly joined him, pulling Gabriel to his side. Sam remained standing and signalled to the bartender to pass them four beers, not that Castiel would drink his.

"Nah, just a bunch of rumours — that psychiatrist was really concerned with my relationship to my brother, though."

"You went to a psychiatrist?" Dean asked incredulously. Gabriel waved him off.

"We thought someone who called himself a Saint might have been admitted to a psychiatric asylum. A dud, though." Gabriel drank half his bottle in a few gulps. Since being cut off from Heaven, his power had been somewhat reduced, resulting in him actually being able to properly taste human foods.

"…Isn't that…" Castiel muttered, squinting at a hunched figure sitting in the opposite corner of the room. All of their heads turned to 'inconspicuously' stare at the man. Sam pulled out his phone and held up the picture of their supposed Saint.

"Yep, that's him," Sam said, placing his phone back into his breast pocket. He grabbed his beer and began making his way to the Apostle, when he noticed that the others remained seated. "Well, y'all coming?"

If the Apostle was intimidated when four men approached him out of nowhere, he didn't show it. He was nursing a tumbler filled with some sort of amber liquid and when his gaze lazily looked up at them, he hardly gave a reaction. It took them a moment to realise that he was drunk, causing a large smile to stretch out on Gabriel's lips.

"Hi, uh… are you Paul?" Dean asked, tone somewhat sceptical. Sam gave him a look that said 'really?'.

"Yes. Though no one seems to believe me."

"Saint Paul, right? How's Heaven these days? Has it become a preferred holiday location by now?" A mischievous glint in Gabriel's eye made Sam eye him suspiciously. However, this time Paul actually looked at Gabriel, having previously not seem him behind Sam's tall frame.

"Gabriel!" he exclaimed, obviously recognising him. He tried to stand up, but swayed on his feet. Then he caught sight of Castiel and his face brightened even more. "Castiel!"

"Yes, that's us, now why don't you start by telling us why in the world you're on Earth… in a pub, drunk?"

The Apostle Paul blushed slightly. "Lucifer came to Heaven and before I could stop him, he blew past me, throwing my Keys down to Earth… telling me to 'go fetch'."

Gabriel actually released a short laugh.

"I've been trying to get the Angels to collect me, or at least help me find the Keys, but I can't hear them mumbling in the back of my mind anymore. They're completely cut off!"

Gabriel and Castiel exchanged a meaningful glance. The Apostle Paul's jaw dropped as he realised what this meant.

"You don't mean to say… You're not saying… Oh my God, did you shut the Gates of Heaven?"

"Calm down, Paulette (the Apostle frowned at the nickname), what can the Keys do?" One could always count on Dean to mutilate one's name.

"They're symbolic at best… but they _do_ hold some of Heaven's power in them. In a mortal's hands they could wreak havoc."

"And you're sure that they're in… Oregon of all places?" Sam questioned.

"I am able to sense them," Castiel said slowly. Even in his graceless state, he had retained some attributes and abilities of the Angels. "They are in this city."

In that moment, something extraordinary happened: had they been outside, they would have seen a white light pulse the cloudy sky, making inhabitants write it off as some sort of freak-thunder. They could not have been more wrong, because in that instant, the clouds cleared and the summer sky beyond was revealed.

Inside the pub, Gabriel felt a surge of power hit him and as though a switch had been flicked, his Angel Radio was turned back on. Thousands of voices; of Angels instantly invaded his mind. For the first time in five years, his mind did not feel lonely anymore. Glancing at Castiel, he noticed the Angel looked blissed out… There was something holier about him… Dear God, Gabriel noticed. He had his grace back.

"The Gates…" Castiel whispered when he came to. The Apostle's sharp gaze, now obviously less inebriated, assessed the Angel suspiciously.

"They just opened," Gabriel finished for him, briefly closing his eyes to dedicate his attention to the Angel chatter… it took him a moment to realise how extremely human it sounded. What the Hell had happened in Heaven while the Gates had been shut?!

And then, they were hit by another surprise because through the door stumbled in two very familiar celestial entities. Michael and Lucifer were very literally walking side by side, relaxed and not at each other's throats. The latter was twirling a keychain of three golden Keys. It didn't take them great deductive powers to realise what was in his possession.

"Luce!" Gabriel gave his brother a sort of half hug and then hesitantly shook Michael's hand.

"You're not at each other's throats anymore…?" Sam asked. Dean was supporting Castiel as the latter got used to his full-blown power again.

"We've resolved some issues," Michael managed. Lucifer ignored them and tossed the keys at the Apostle, who, in his slightly drunken state, missed catching them by a few centimetres. Before he could lean down to pick them up, another familiar face greeted them.

Chuck stood there, dressed in nice clothes, with a clean-shaven face and a full head of brushed hair. He gracefully helped Paul stand up, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. With his other hand he placed the keys into the Apostle's hands. Smiling kindly at him, he said: "Now off you go."

In an instant, the Apostle disappeared. Chuck's arms awkwardly hovered in the air for a moment, before dropping. The Winchesters stared at him as the dots slowly connected. Catching the bartender's attention, Chuck smiled and dropped a few bills on the counter.

"The next round's on me."

With that, the prophet-turned-God, left the pub. Dean's gaze followed him, frozen in place. It was only a few minutes later that he spoke:

"Am I dreaming or did God just buy me a drink?"

* * *

 **I've never liked happy endings, but it fits to this story, mainly because I don't think that the point of this story is for it to be happy or sad or whatever, it's supposed to tell the story of how the most irredeemable character in all of religious history is ultimately redeemed. This is definitely not the best work that I have written, but where character development is considered, I feel that this story does an okay job at depicting that character arc.**

 **Many thanks to the people who have followed and favourited this story. Also many great thanks to those of you who have reviewed and left nice comments. Even to those who have left less than nice comments, I thank you.**

 **(and should any guest reviewers be so inclined to leave a comment, know that I will not be posting any more chapters/epilogues tho this story, so I will not have the chance to reply to you in the A/N of a 'next chapter'. So please, log in so I may reply to you! :))**


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